


Captured

by thekid21



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Childhood Sexual Abuse, Drug Use, F/M, Hell, M/M, Milkshakes, Rape/Non-con Elements, Scars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:23:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 38,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekid21/pseuds/thekid21
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Avengers and various other heroes are captured leaving the villain community free to do what they want. While the remaining heroes are too busy fighting it is left to an unlikely group of anti heroes to attempt a rescue. Quicksilver is forced to relive his past while the unlikely group moves into position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Memories

**Author's Note:**

> All Rights to Marvel except for OCs! Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All rights go to Marvel! This is an updated and expanded version, let me know what you think.

"North tower is down," the Punisher said in his deadpan voice. He was looking down at the complex Quicksilver had charged at only seconds before. The odd group stood waiting for their window the speedster was making.

"Christ… they call me Flash," Agent Venom was gazing after Quicksilver with something like shock on his voice. "Hellstrom, you ready?"

"You have to ask?" Daimon said from the tree he was leaning against. "Just remember our deal, Agent." Flames began to lick out from his right hand forming the outline of his trident.

"Keep up your end and I won't take you back to the Raft when this is over."

"Oh, touchy," Daimon said absently as he created a portal to the tower Pietro had just cleared. The Punisher and Venom gave their weapons one last check as they walked toward the Son of Satan.

"Have no fear, Agent of Venom! Daimon and I have worked together on several occasions. After we have saved the day we'll all go get milk shakes. Castle, are you familiar with the Midgarian delicacy? I have become rather fond of them myself. Though, I am told they are rather bad for you," Loki was doing nothing to reassure the rest of the team. If his idea of villainous talk involved milk shakes they were in trouble.

"You're sure you know what you're doing? Valkrie made you sound way more evil," Venom said doubtfully.

"Agent, I am the trickster of Asgard! Silvertongue! If anyone can play the role of a villain it's me. Besides I've become rather familiar with Midgardian ideas of villainy through the Internet. Very informative though I feel they are often very one dimensional." Loki sounded confident, but he still just looked like a child in strange clothing.

"Alright, kid. See you on the other side," Venom nodded to Loki as Daimon teleported Frank and him into the tower. Quicksilver had taken out the cameras along with the men, so no one would see them appearing from a mass of swirling flames. Frank immediately dispatched the lone guard slowly returning to consciousness easily snapping his neck. Venom shifted into a uniform like the guards while Frank pulled a jacket off the man he'd just killed.

"Sir, do you think we can trust them?"

"I don't trust anyone, kid. Let's move out," Frank said calmly walking towards the cell-block.

Quicksilver continued his run through the complex creating as much chaos as possible. His goal was the cell-block the Punisher had showed him on the map. How Castle had that map or any of the intelligence on this group Pietro could care less. He tried to clear his mind of the plan focusing on rescuing his sister and running. As long as the telepath was busy trying to keep up with Quicksilver's thoughts he had a good chance of keeping him distracted. Frank said this telepath loved victims with lots of dark memories to exploit. Since Frank was practically immune to personal torture and Venom's identity was mostly secret it had fallen to Pietro to provide the distraction for the sociopath. Rounding a corner he was met with a room full of guards in black tactical gear. He easily dogged the wall of machine gun fire, but he wasn't ready for the force fields that sprung up around him.

"Nice of you to join us, mutant filth, but it probably won't be too nice for you." It only took Pietro a couple seconds to completely take in his captors, the cage holding him, and the larger one containing most of the super hero community while still thinking of several escape plans to keep his mind busy. He didn't remember seeing any of his captors in the Avenger's files. The first speaker looked normal enough, but every mutant can tell how little appearances count toward danger. He had short, dark brown hair and green eyes. His face wasn't ugly or handsome and without the smirk he was currently wearing he would be easy to forget. Pietro gave him a bored smirk electing to ignore the opening insults.

"Why don't you just make this easy and let all of us go. I have better things to be doing than sitting around here conversing with you on these imbeciles behalf." Pietro rolled gracefully to his feet and gestured vaguely at the heroes. He barely looked at Green Eyes. "Who are you anyway?"

"Erebus and my colleague Metis."

"Should I be impressed by your classical education alone?"

"Oh I've heard about you. I have to admit I'm somewhat surprised you didn't just take you sister and run." He was carefully concealing his rage, but he was very quickly loosing patience as Pietro idly looked at his nails. Pietro had that effect on people.

"The thought had occurred but she'd probably be upset if I left the others. I don't relish the idea of her taking my powers again." Judging the walls of his cell safe he coolly leaned against a wall with his arms folded over his chest.

"You'll be wishing that was all that happened. My employers have paid a considerable sum to keep you all busy. We've decided to take the chance to delve into your heads to get all your secrets. There's bound to be some useful facts we can sell. While we're at it we decided to test some new tech. Don't worry we'll be making DVD's so your most painful moments can be revisited at any time. I'm going to have you screaming for the end you worthless piece of-"

"Can we hurry this up? I find your diabolical monologue somewhat lackluster. Honestly you'd have a hard time thinking of a torture that I haven't survived before including several speeches by Doom." In all this time Pietro had barely glanced up to meet anyone's eyes, but as he said this he glanced briefly at his sister. He used to feel so reassured by her presence. These days it only reminded him of all the things he'd left behind. He risked another glance at his captors in an attempt to stop himself going into that line of thought. Unfortunately for Pietro his brain was wired to handle several trains of thought simultaneously. The only thing that made the cycling stop was running, but the tiny cell was currently stopping him from doing more than pacing restlessly (or in this case tapping his fingers at super-speed). It wouldn't do for Quicksilver to appear any more agitated than usual.

"Oh how lucky for us then." His captor had suddenly seemed to calm down as if Pietro had just said exactly what he'd been hoping to hear. "See I've found that the most effective way to torment someone is through their own memories. You superheroes are a tragic lot. Except no one seems quite sure if you're a hero or a villain. Hell you probably don't know either. If you actually gave a shit about being one or the other you'd be practically unstoppable." Erebus pulled out a communicator and stood listening to someone on the other line giving occasional orders.

"Well lucky for everyone I'm a free thinker," he mumbled sullenly.

Pietro took the chance to look at his other captor. Metis had been patiently staring at Pietro the whole time. He barely seemed to breathe. When he caught Pietro looking at him his eyes slightly narrowed and the corner of his lips twitched into a cruel smile. Fighting the urge to shiver or look away, the speedster stared blankly back. The man's ice blue eyes seemed to be gazing directly at Pietro's soul and he looked hungry. This was a man who fed of the pain of others and smiled while he drew it out. Pietro was very familiar with men like that. He knew pleading would only excite him more, but he had few things left to beg for.

"Well then looks like I have a mess to clean up now thanks to our little intruder. You took out two guards towers and nearly 300 heavily armed men in five minutes." He looked more impressed than annoyed. "Oddly enough when preparing to take on the Avengers you didn't really come up as a serious threat. We were so focused on containing that insane family of yours that we practically forgot about you, but I promise that won't happen again." He turned to the other man placing a hand and his shoulder and speaking directly into his ear conspiratorially. Metis didn't look away from Pietro, but smiled slightly and nodded.

"Be sure to record it. I'm sure this one's secrets will be amusing though they probably won't sell for as mush as the others I can always do with a laugh." He left the room laughing evilly and Pietro couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes.

"Well don't just stare at me. Get on with it." It seemed Pietro's legendary impatience could extend to the people intent on torturing him. Rather than speak the enigmatic villain motioned to a man at the control center. The two-dozen men in black tactical gear quickly began securing and checking their helmets.

"There's lots of painful memories in that pretty little head. Can't wait to look through them with all your friends watching. Do they realize just how worthless you are?" A few technicians were quickly wheeling in a machine wired to a flat screen.

"Oh dear, please don't ruin their good opinions of me," Pietro was a picture of arrogance, but inside he was barely restraining his body from shaking. He'd known what he was running in here to face and the sudden flurry of activity was doing little to calm him.

"Oh this isn't about them. Although, for being a part of so many teams it's truly remarkable, the efficiency you turn everyone against you."

"It's one of my lesser known mutant powers." He simply smiled and glanced at the engineer. Giving him a slight nod the engineer pressed a few controls. Pietro's cage began to fill with a faint gas. For his part the speedster looked completely calm. Frowning at one of the screens the engineer pressed another control that sent a charge through the wall Pietro was leaning on. The shock made him gasp in a few quick breaths before he could stop himself. The minor lungful of gas loosened the speedster's mental barriers enough for Metis to form the necessary footholds. He put on a helmet similar to the X-Men's Cerebro and the TV immediately flicked on. The few remaining henchman not wearing helmets were leaving.

"Ready for a test run?" he asked the engineer that was hurriedly strapping on his own helmet. Giving an eager nod the engineer stood waiting. Turning back to his subject Metis tilted his head. "Let's start at the beginning." Pietro was having a hard time putting thoughts together, but he knew he should probably be trying to stop Metis from continuing. Instead he knelt shaking his head trying to clear his addled thoughts.

It felt as though someone was splitting his head open. Pulling out all his memories with no attempts at being gentle. The room vanished and suddenly Pietro was in one of his earliest memories. Wanda and he were so young. Running around outside the small cottage they spent their brief childhood in. He remembered Django and Marya Maximoff laughing as they worked. The sun was bright and being a childhood memory certain details were hazy while others seemed exaggerated. The sun was one of the exaggerated parts. The whole memory looked like it was made of gold and warmth. He could clearly remember simply playing with his sister in the sun when everything was still okay. When they had parents that loved them and would take care of them. The memory quickly faded and the room before him momentarily confused Pietro.

"That is a truly ridiculous helmet," he said dully. Metis chose to ignore the asinine remark and stared at the engineer. The TV stirred to life and a familiar scene quickly took shape. The field and the miniature Maximoff twins laughing and playing replayed on the screen. Pietro glanced at the other heroes. They didn't look completely surprised about seeing the younger versions of the two Avengers although seeing it on the small screen was unusual. His heart began to sink and he once more looked at the various helmets in sight.

"Not quite the same as an undiluted memory, but it'll suffice." Metis smiled and followed Pietro's line-of-sight. "Oh yes since your friends aren't wearing one of the ridiculous helmets they get the undiluted memories. See my helmet broadcasts everything I get from you, thoughts and feelings included, so the computer can record what it can. We can't have this lot getting distracted so their helmets block the signals. Don't feel too bad for them though. They get to watch the TV, but these helmets are expensive. We saw no reason to make more for your friends."

"Well that's not the least bit reassuring," Pietro was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Metis had told the engineers to call Erebus back that their subject was ready. No longer caring if he looked agitated Pietro began to pace his cell. He could feel the others intense stares. A large part of the Avengers including Captain American, Iron Man sans actual Iron Man suit, Spiderman, Hawkeye, Daredevil, Iron Fist, Luke Cage, Spiderwoman, Thor, Hank Pym, Black Widow, Doctor Strange, Wolverine, and Wanda had been corralled with Rogue, Beast, Storm, Emma Frost, Collossus, Kitty Pryde, Ice Man, and Captain Britain. The fact that all of these heroes had been individually caught and were now being held was not reassuring. As soon as they were out of play the villain community had stepped up all their action effectively preventing the remaining heroes from forming a proper rescue. Quicksilver had literally marched through the front door and began destroying everything he could touch on his way to the cells. Although he'd done more damage in those five minutes than anyone thought possible he'd still been caught.

"Gentlemen! Ladies! Let's begin this leap forward in the exploitation of the weaknesses of others! Quicksilver I'm so glad you ran in here and effectively decided who our first subject would be," Erebus had returned and was excitedly securing his own helmet. "The only real question is where to begin. This childhood one is a little too happy for my tastes though it's always strange seeing one with such a twisted heart young and innocent. Magneto, you old relic, did you ever see your kids this young?"

"I was not aware I had them at that time," he replied dismissively.

"Who was the lucky lady, eh? She must not have liked you much if she didn't tell you about them. Metis let's see what Pietro here remembers of mommy dearest," Erebus rubbed his hands together seemingly eager to begin.


	2. It'll Be Okay

A small child lay curled up in a nest of blankets. His silver hair seemed to glow in the dim light. One small fist was tangled in the soft curls while the other rested under his chin. The edges of the memory seemed hazy, but the sense of warmth and security was clear if dreamlike.

The toddler sized Pietro felt safe, but a sense of coming pain lurked in the shadows. When he was forced into this memory a deep feeling of pain forced itself into his heart. He saw the last time he’d felt safe in the last real night of his childhood. Everything he had lost was placed before him. He could only see the death of innocence and the lost child in the dark of his soul.

All he wanted was a return to this feeling, but he knew it couldn’t happen in this life. Instead he let himself fill with anger he could direct at the world around him. Suddenly the surrounding shadows formed into a woman who looked eerily similar to Wanda. Magda gently roused her child and the confused blue eyes immediately calmed when they found his mother’s face.

"My baby," she said sadly, "be good to your sister."

Magda turned and seemed to melt into the darkness that was suddenly overbearing. The night was dragging the boy down as he desperately called for his mother. Begging her to stay. The boy was screaming but the night just swallowed his shouts. He knew in his heart that no one could hear him. Innocence drowned in the darkness. Metis laughed is his head.

*

An older Pietro woke from the nightmare in a small tent next to his sister. In spite of the cold air he was sweating. He covered his face with shaking hands. Wanda sat up beside him and patiently leaned on her twin’s shoulder.

“Same one?” she asked soothingly.

“I wish I knew who she was,” he said into his hands.

“You think you know her?”

“It feels like a memory from a different life. Something half forgotten. She looks like you.”

“Maybe you’re seeing the future.” She smiled into his shoulder. He’d stopped shaking and was quickly detaching himself from the feeling of abandonment threatening to overwhelm him. His sister’s voice anchoring him to the present.

“I highly doubt it. You’d never leave red entirely from your clothes.” Wanda laughed lightly.

“My brother the detective.”

“Better than cliché fortune teller.”

“Well Sherlock, surely you know I’d never voluntarily leave you?” Pietro didn’t know how to respond to this. He could never trust the bit of hope Wanda always managed to pull from him. Hope was something he couldn’t afford. You never know when it will be snatched away. He needed to focus on keeping his sister safe. He simply nodded. 

“Brother,” Wanda sighed sensing his thoughts, “I love you and I know that we will always have each other. Even if you don’t believe it.” She placed a gentle kiss on his cheek and held him tighter.

“Come on, let’s get some sleep,” He couldn’t look at her. He didn’t want to see the emotions he could feel pouring off his twin, so he squeezed her briefly and burrowed back in the blankets. Wanda smiled and lay down next to him. She gently alternated between stroking his hair and scratching his back until her breathing evened out. Pietro opened his eyes when her hand stopped moving. He focused on her face, peaceful in sleep. The emotions threatening to overwhelm him in the wake of the nightmare slowly calmed as he listened to her breathing. Forcing the choking sensation back down to the usual dull ache in his heart until he almost felt nothing once more.

In the silence there was only the steady rise and fall of Wanda’s chest. The flashlight casting shadows that made children look like giants. When his heart had slowed he turned the light off and thought it’ll be okay. He made himself believe it. Repeating it like a prayer until he fell asleep.

*

Wanda was laughing along with the other Avengers at a something Hawkeye had just said. It had been a long time since Pietro had seen her this happy. She was surrounded by friends who loved her, there was plenty of food on the table, and she didn’t have to worry about where she’d sleep that night. Everyone seemed happy. A room full of people dedicated to protecting others.

Pietro felt like he was intruding. He didn’t belong in this group of cheerful faces. He wanted to run and scream through the crowd. Shake those smiles off their faces. Why couldn’t they see? He’d been screaming his whole life for someone to save him. Quicksilver knew that no one was coming to save him. No one but Wanda had ever paid any attention to that piece of him and even she barely acknowledged it. She could convince herself he was alright. They survived and they were safe. People saw what they wanted and Pietro didn’t want to take that peace from her when there was nothing she could do to help anyway.

Watching her he knew she’d moved on. He didn’t resent her for forgetting how much pain he was in. Most of his life he’d tried to keep her happy. He’d given up on himself and devoted everything he had left to keeping her safe. Now that she was he had no idea what to do. The pain he’d been swallowing his whole life started coming back all at once. Now his only goal had been fulfilled all those ignored wounds left to fester were demanding his attention. As his heart sped up Pietro started to panic. He was suddenly aware of how bright the room was. Laugher reached him from a great distance, but it sounded like a different language all together.

This must be what drowning feels like. Desperately trying to get air to call for help. In a room full of superheroes a man was slowly dying. No one stopped him from rising and slipping out into the cold night air. As his heart continued to pound in his ears Pietro began to run. Away from the pain. Away from those happy, whole people. Just away. The world blurred until Pietro was simply a breath of wind. He ran until he reached the Pacific, then kept going till he met the sun. His breathing calmed and he focused on the burned in his legs. Normally he’d push himself to go faster. Tonight (or today in this stretch of the Sahara) he felt himself slowly down. He was tired. Tired of running. He was still looking for a home. Somewhere he knew he belonged. Where he was seen and wanted.

Dropping to his knees and staring blankly at the sand Pietro started to mumble to himself:

“It’ll be okay.” He wanted to cry. To feel something. All he felt was empty. There were no tears in him. He couldn’t even summon anger. Wasn’t this what he’d wanted? His sister had people to look after her. He should be happy. Instead all he wanted to do was die in this desert. No one would find him here. The sand would bury him and the world would forget he’d ever lived. Life would simply go on.

Rocking on his knees Pietro numbly wondered what would happen if he simply never got up. How long would it take him to die here? Not fast enough probably. Pietro began to go over all the possible ways to die. Over the years Pietro had developed an impressive list. He never thought it’d come to this. The fastest man alive sitting alone in a desert with a witch for a sister who was happy and safe on the other side of the ocean. He always assumed he’d die as a nameless gypsy orphan bleeding in a dirty alley in Eastern Europe. He wasn’t supposed to survive. It slowly settled in the heat waves around him. Pietro hadn’t survived. He’d died a long time ago. This empty prison was all that remained. That too would fade. He began to walk back toward New York. The end was coming for him. He was ready.

*

Time slowly became meaningless. The next few months seemed almost calm. Pietro went on missions, ate, slept, and performed everyday tasks. Calmingly waiting for death to take him. A rare sense of peace in the knowledge it would soon end. The Avengers didn’t comment on the teenager’s increased detachment. As time passed the familiar panic began to return. He became agitated again and prone to fierce mood swings that made his teammates actively begin to avoid him. Pietro encouraged it. He wanted their hatred. He wanted them to hate him as he hated himself. Their anger was better than their indifference or sympathy. He wanted to destroy everything around him. 

His fighting became sloppy and merciless. Every breath went into not caring about life. Trying to convince him self to just end it now. He was a child desperately seeking rescue if he could only stop attacking everyone who tried.

*

Daimon opened a second portal for Loki into the complex. It was his turn to find a way to get the cages opened. Thor had been put under some kind of sleep spell while Tony Stark had been taken when he wasn’t wearing his suit, so it was clear Erebus had done his research and come prepared. Since he had found a way to incapacitate many powerful mutants, humans, and gods they had decided that an unconventional approach was required. Fortunately Loki was a law unto himself. No one could predict his next move because his motives were never clear. Lies flowed so naturally from him it was impossible to separate the truth from the deception.

Whistling something that sounded like Queen he casually strolled directly to two guards patrolling the halls. “Greetings, Midgardians. I’m, Laufeyson. Loki Laufeyson. Please page Erebus and inform him of my arrival. I’m on a rather tight schedule.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Useless Habits

It was in this time Pietro found him self in a small convenience store glaring at a Yoohoo in his hand. He'd finally pushed his teammates too far. He'd slammed the door behind him cutting off Stark's yelling. Once Pietro started laying into someone he couldn't stop. Their anger was usually satisfying for him. It pulled him out of his own thoughts when he wasn't on the move. Just because he'd physically slowed down didn't mean his brain would stop processing at super-speed. He would absorb every detail in the room around him in a matter of seconds. Memorizing everything until he knew how many screws had been used. He'd envision a dozen ways an attack might happen with a dozen possible escape routes and every possible way to kill someone with the nearest object. Everything down to a box of paper clips could become a potential weapon. All of this before you've finished saying your name.

The Captain had given him several unbearably long speeches about patience and compassion. By the end Pietro was quivering with the need to move and the Captain would take in his fidgeting with a look of annoyance. Stark had been lecturing him today when Pietro had lost his limited patience. He was tied of everyone telling him he needed to slow down and stop making everyone nervous with his constant movement. No one seemed to realize he'd tried, but he didn't wear an Iron Man suit he could take on and off at will. He'd told Stark he'd stop if Stark would agree to only using his intelligence when they were on missions or to only talk to relay necessary information. His rant about arrogant, narcissists followed him out the door. As it slammed he'd noticed Wanda blushing at her brother's behavior.

Wanda had been distancing herself as she felt Pietro growing more impatient. He'd seen her getting closer to the rest of the team as he pulled away. She was no longer trying to defend his behavior. Adapting to her atmosphere and growing independence had created a bigger gap with Pietro. He was starting to see that he couldn't be a brother the Scarlet Witch could really be proud of.

Pietro placed the Yoohoo on the counter and impulsively stole a pack of cigarettes while the cashier was counting his change. American laws concerning smoking and alcohol were ridiculous. He'd smoked on occasion growing up without batting an eye. Sure it was bad for you and he hated what it did to his lungs so he had avoided turning it into a habit but sometimes it helped to calm him down. To combat his restlessness he'd tried to find small distractions. He'd spun a coin between his knuckles until Banner had yelled at him to stop with green tinting his iris'. He lit the cigarette as he stepped out forcing himself to walk at a normal speed. Focusing on the nicotine allowed his to reach the end of the block in a record three minutes. Some mutants can switch their powers on and off. Pietro was not one of those mutants. Grinning slightly he reached for another cigarette and realized the box was empty. Calculating the number of blocks back to the Mansion and how many packs of cigarettes it'd take him to reach it, Pietro huffed and threw the empty pack over his shoulder.

"Useless fucking habit," he mumbled into the Yoohoo he polished off in three quick swallows. A woman across the street screamed, but was quickly silenced as two men pulled her down a dark alley. Pietro sighed at the inconvenience and jogged across the street.

"Shut up you worthless whore! No one can hear you!"

"Hurry up, man! I want a go,"

"Please, please don't do this!" She was sobbing as one man held her down with a gun aimed at her head while his partner fumbled with his belt.

"Put the gun down and for god sakes no one wants to see your cock," Pietro leaned in the entrance coldly watching the would-be rapists. The woman scrambled to her feet covering herself and trying to thank her rescuer. "Run along and buy a taser of some mace at a minimum. What do you expect walking alone this late." She stared at him wide eyed. "Yeah I saved you. Go tell your friends and family. I don't care. Just fuck off defenseless citizen!"

"Asshole," she quickly left the boy to his fate without looking over her shoulder. Pietro just waited for the two men to make a move.

"Come on kid let's just forget about this. Like you said, the bitch was asking for it," the one with the gun said recovering from the shock.

"Yes, I'm sure when she got ready today she was hoping some scumbags would rape her on the way home." Pietro started walking towards them.

"You really should've stayed out of it, kid. Now we need to find some fresh entertainment." The man with the open belt was eying the small teenager hungrily. The one with the gun smiled at his partner's words. Pietro stopped at the look in the men's eyes. He was frozen with a familiar dread. This wasn't happening.

"He's a pretty one," the gunman aimed at Pietro.

"Can't wait to see you on your knees sucking my cock, boy." The other reached for Pietro who was barely breathing.

"No," Pietro said it quietly as he pulled a fist back and hit the first man so fast his neck immediately broke. Before the other even realized what'd happened Pietro was on him punching his face as they fell. Straddling the man he continued to hit him long after he'd stopped fighting back. When he stopped there was barely anything left of the man's head and he was sobbing. "Don't touch me," he was mumbling to himself as he rocked back and forth.

He could see that room from his childhood. Practically smell his blood and the alcohol in the air. That ever-present ache rose in his body. God would it ever go away? He was quickly starting to panic at the rising memories. Something black caught his eye. One of the men had dropped a small balloon of heroin. Pietro stared at it for a split-second before grabbing it and running to the nearest hospital. He found a supply closet and grabbed a handful of needles. He made it to an abandoned factory and hurriedly tied himself off. As the drug took effect everything slowed down. He could feel it spreading until he felt numb. For the first time since acquiring powers Pietro sat still. His mind was blank. He felt normal. He could block out all the noise trying to control his brain. He no longer cared that he was slipping. There was only the foreign feeling of euphoria and the absence of pain.

*

The present came rushing back. At some point Pietro had fallen to his knees cradling his body against the onslaught of memories that were each forcefully dragged forward for him to relive. Even the memory of his first hit was enough to bring back the cravings. He'd give anything right now to get that feeling back. To feel happy. To not feel the aches in his abused body. Forcing himself to think of what was at stake he slowed his breathing and looked angrily at Metis and Erebus who was laughing wickedly.

"Oh does the junkie want a fix? You are just full of surprises. I didn't think you had it in you to kill someone." Erebus was acting as though he'd just heard a really good joke.

"I don't get along with rapists." He tried to sound casual like he was merely sharing his dislike of onions.

"Clearly, but that definitely had the ring of personal. You didn't just kill that last one. You beat him into the ground." Metis stood considering his prey while Erebus talked. Pietro was glaring at him with a new intensity. The caged heroes didn't know how to react. Guilt and shock seemed to be the common feeling. Peter Parker seemed sick seeing Quicksilver kill men so easily at such a young age. Stark was looking guilty over not seeing the signs of addiction in the teenager. Pietro had never been very popular. Most had ignored the obvious damage radiating from the speedster. He always quashed any sympathy before someone started looking to deeply at his psyche.

Most of them had stopped trying to befriend Pietro years ago. They'd tried to brush off his prickly attitude as simply being Pietro. Seeing the depth of his issues was shaking many long held opinions. What else was he hiding? Everything that was known about him seemed to be put into question. Many glances were shot towards Wanda and Magneto. Wanda was staring at her twin with a painful intensity, tears silently falling down her face. Magento looked completely lost. He was staring between the two men not sure what to believe.

"Where to start." Metis mumbled to himself. He seemed to be processing everything he'd just seen. Pietro stared back and waited. Sifting through memories hungrily searching for the most painful Metis would pause smiling to look conspiratorially at Pietro. "Why don't you tell us all about the first time you were raped."

"Wasn't anything special," Pietro said blankly.

"Well let's let your friends be the judge of that," Erebus said happily.

*

A seven-year-old Pietro was running through a crowded street. He was bundled up in rags frantically dodging people. There was shouting behind him, but he tried to ignore it. As long as he kept running he'd be okay. If he stopped they'd catch him. Turning down an alley he pushed himself faster. Pietro was beautiful as he ran. Already fast he looked completely in control. Graceful despite the mud spattered across his body.

The men chasing him sere slowing down and the boy thinking he'd won allowed him self a small smile. Rounding the last corner he barely stopped himself fro colliding with a fence. Before he could start climbing rough hands grabbed him and threw him against a wall.

"Think you can steal from us, street rat?" a gruff voice said directly in his ear. Warm breath and a coarse beard tickled Pietro's face.

"Oh he's a pretty one. Look at his hair. Looks like some kind of freak." The third man was eagerly approaching as the other two lifted the boy off his feet.

Pietro was struggling trying to kick one of the men. Their hold tightened and a fist connected with his stomach. "Gypsy trash, need to know their worth. You're nothing, boy. Don't matter if you steal or not. The fact is you were born and we're gonna show you your place." He showed a few missing teeth as he leered at the boy. The two holding him laughed and threw him to the ground.

"Please, I have a sister," the terrified boy tried crawling away, but was quickly kicked in the side.

"Maybe we'll pay her a visit next," one of them laughed and kicked him again. Pietro didn't know what they were going to do but he knew he didn't want them anywhere near Wanda. Rough hands rolled Pietro to his stomach. Arms pinned him down on all sides and he heard a knife click open. The three grown men hardly seemed to notice his renewed struggles. Weak from lack of food Pietro's only defense was to run. As the knife began to carve into his shoulder other hands pulled at the rest of his clothes.

Pietro felt tears falling to the mud along with his blood. He was trying to move away from the pain. He could hear the men laughing but he didn't really care. The child was just hoping they didn't kill him or cut him too badly. Young though he was Pietro was familiar with the cruelty of men. At seven-years-old he was sure he'd seen the worst. As he felt them tug his pants down he could only think of the knife that had left his shoulder. He was confused when he heard someone behind him pulling down a zipper. He'd seen girls taken by force, but you couldn't do that to a boy, right?

"You're nothing, boy," a voice said coldly in his ear. All he felt next was pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be trying to update each week, but in the mean time reviews are greatly appreciated. Love it, hate it just let me know because I'd love to hear from you!


	4. Crystal

The shock of that first day seemed to reverberate through the memories rushing by. All these years later and he could still feel it. All the emotions building over the years were being released in that factory each night to be put under glass for inspection and held aloft for any god that might still be listening. He’d set up in an empty office in the factory where he’d had his first fix with a stained mattress as his alter. Over the years whenever it got to be too much he’d come here and trade his memories for a few hours of euphoria. The only way to stop the pain was through a needle. 

The rest of the team seemed happy to have him out of their hair. On missions he no longer focused on the fight, but returning to this feeling. At first he’d tried to limit his time spent here high to prevent it interfering with the team. Over the years he’d started reordering his priorities. Now a day barely passed that he didn’t stop here. He’d even taken to sleeping on the beaten mattress he’d dragged in. If the other Avenger’s noticed a change in his behavior they didn’t say anything. Pietro was around less, but when he was he was only a little more restless than usual. Sometimes he was almost nice. 

Eventually he just left the team. It had begun to cut into factory time. It took a giant robot specifically designed to hunt and kill mutants to pull him away. The sentinel attack left him too weak to move. That’s when Crystal found him. She thought the vomiting and intense fever dreams were a result of the pain. Pietro assumed it was maternal instincts that drew her to stay by him. He needed someone to take care of him and the Inhuman princess was only too happy to watch over the handsome mutant. She was eager to change his bandages or wash the sweat from his aching body. 

At first when her hands began to linger a bit longer on his body he’d just been too weak to protest the gentle touches. Only Wanda had ever touched him with an ounce of tenderness, but soon he started to slowly allow her to play with his hair or rub his aching muscles. She didn’t look disgusted at all the scars on his body. She was gentle as she traced the map across his porcelain skin. Pietro wouldn’t talk about himself when she asked questions, but he always listened to her. Few people were ever this open with him and it was refreshing. They developed a comfortable companionship although Crystal clearly wanted more. Her eyes started to wander more pointedly down his body, but all the painkillers were making him more accepting than usual. That’s probably what did it. 

After a few months Pietro eventually woke to a naked Crystal next to him in bed. Having never woken up sharing a bed with someone other than Wanda he wasn’t sure what to do. He barely remembered the night before. Had he actually fucked the Inhuman princess? The thought made him feel dirty. He hadn’t ever consensually had sex recreationally before and he’d been too high to remember it clearly. After a few months he’d picked out the best painkillers in Attilan and last night he’d managed to steal some. He’d been so far gone when Crystal suddenly showed up he’d practically jumped her when she changed his bandages with her direct looks. She made him feel wanted and in the haze of pills he’d reached out. 

She stirred next to him, nuzzling closer to his side. Yawning sleepily she looked up at Pietro through half lidded eyes. “Morning,” she smiled sweetly. Having no idea what to say to this he hesitantly kissed her temple. She sighed happily and turned to gently kiss his lips. Slowly kissing him, she started to trace her tongue along his bottom lip. He carefully opened his mouth and met her tongue with his own quickly matching her rhythm. As the kiss became more heated Crystal guided his hands to her bare chest. Not sure what she wanted he massaged the soft mounds. She moaned whenever he focused on the peaks so he gave them an experimental lick while she caught her breath. 

Biting gently he was rewarded with a deeper moan of pleasure. He pulled back and watched her face as he caressed her body fascinated by her reactions. “Pietro, more… please…” Moving his hands down her body he was met with a patch of coarse hair at the apex of her legs. Watching her face he began to tease her folds with his fingers eliciting more moans. He knew enough to look for the small button at the top of the opening and began to experiment with flicking and twisting it. As Crystal began more aroused she started begging him to enter her. Looking down his own naked body he wasn’t surprised to find his cock totally flaccid. Not wanting to fail he started trailing kisses down her body as his started fucking her with his fingers. Meeting his fingers he attached his mouth to the small nub making Crystal cry out in shock. He continued until he felt her walls flutter around his fingers. She shouted his name as she came and he crawled up her body unsure what she’d want next. Gripping the hair at the base of his neck she pulled him in for a deep kiss tasting her self on his tongue. “You are amazing. Most guys won’t do that without a lot of begging.”

“I’m not most guys,” he said it with some of his usual arrogance trying to mask his discomfort and keep space between them so she wouldn’t notice his nonexistent reaction. She was tracing some of the scars on his back now and he really wanted to slap her hands away. He needed to get out of here. If he stayed much longer she’d want to really have him inside her again and the thought made him sick with anxiety. 

“Clearly,” she said softly. “Look I know you were planning on leaving now you’ve contacted your friends-”

“They aren’t my friends,” he said simply.

“Well regardless would it be okay if I stopped in on occasion? Just to say hi or hang out sometime.” She seemed nervous and Pietro felt slightly guilty. She’d taken care of him for months. In that time no one else had come looking for him, but she had barely left his side. He wasn’t sure what her motives where for showing such kindness though if he was honest with himself he didn’t really care. 

“Yeah, that’s alright,” he said smoothly.

“Great,” she smiled brightly and lightly kissed his cheek. “Well I wish I could spend the day right here but, I have to do some things for the court. I’ll come back before you leave, though. Maybe I’ll even return that little favor.” She said it with a slight purr, but Pietro barely stopped himself from recoiling. Not noticing she rose and began to redress. Kissing him one more time she left with a slight bounce in her step. The second the door shut Pietro sprinted to the bathroom and started the shower turning it as hot as possible so he was surrounded by steam. 

He began to scrub desperately at his body till he was pink and nearly bleeding. No matter how hard he scrubbed he could feel hands clawing at his body, whispering crude words into his ear. This couldn’t continue. The thought of being touched again made him shake with fear. Crystal was a good person and he wasn’t worthy of her. You are nothing, boy. The words he heard everyday echoed in his head making him drop to his knees. Can’t even get it up. I can’t give her what she wants. She’ll leave. Pietro looked at his body in disgust. He glared at his soft dick for a moment before tentatively starting to stroke himself. After a few seconds feeling nothing but dirty, corrupted he stopped with a sigh. Sex had been ruined for him before he even knew what it was. Until today it had only ever been a source of humiliation and dominance. This tenderness was completely new to him. It made him feel vulnerable. Making up his mind he quickly dressed and began to pace the room. Writing a quick note to Crystal apologizing for leaving without saying goodbye he got a portal back to New York and ran to his factory. 

As he prepared a needle he thought of Crystal. She seemed to actually want his company. The Avenger’s had gotten tired of him a long time ago and he hardly ever saw Wanda anymore. A machine that had more humanity than Pietro could relate to had replaced him. Setting the needle aside he found himself wondering about the Inhuman. He knew she was pretty, but it didn’t give him any desire to be with her. She seemed to enjoy sex more than he’d known was possible without one party being in pain. He tried to recall what it was like to have sex with her the night before. Unsure if he’d enjoyed it or not he was still very surprised he’d even managed to perform. 

Occasionally when someone was forcing himself on him they’d tried to bring him to completion too. Not for his pleasure, but to further shame him and exert their control of the situation. Pietro had stopped getting hard a long time ago though. Occasionally the heroin would give him an erection. The first time it’d happened he’d eagerly stroked himself for the first time in years, but no matter what he did he couldn’t find release. He’d stopped trying to come and simply ignored his body’s reactions whenever his cock stirred with the drugs. Whatever happened last night he was sure he’d have a hell of a time trying a repeat performance. 

He pulled his uniform off to access a vein and stood to find some lose sleep pants. Walking past a mirror he caught sight of his body. Stopping he slowly traced the scars on his chest and his stomach. Moving around his ribs he carefully looked over the marks covering his body. Taking inventory. Turning his back he looked over his shoulder at his new scar from the sentinel. It blended easily with the lash marks and brands. Locating the seven-inch line across his lower back his eyes wandered to his shoulder. That first mark stared back at him. 

Looking at his face Pietro took in his features. He rarely looked too closely at himself. His attackers would laugh if they saw him now. He couldn’t look in a mirror without feeling disgust. Part of him fully believed he’d deserved everything he’d got. Those things were his fault. Angrily punching the mirror he ran around the factory smashing everything that had survived his previous rampages. Returning to the room he picked up the needle and desperately stabbed into his arm. Smiling at the blood running down his arm and from his knuckles he sat down on the bed and began to laugh for the first time in years. Realizing he’d just run around the factory naked in a blind rage he laughed harder at the image. He was officially insane. The thought only brought more laughter until he fell asleep.

*

It was the drugs fault. If he hadn’t taken those pills that night he wouldn’t have gotten her pregnant. The irony that the first time he fucked a woman she got pregnant was not lost on Pietro. Crystal had been happy to marry him, though the rest of the Inhumans were less than thrilled at the union. They’d been married a few months and his prayers that the pregnancy would get rid of her desire for sex had gone unanswered. He could only avoid her so much. Reluctantly he’d tried to let himself trust her. Deciding he’d have to give her some hints he’d told her not to touch or ask about the scars. He’d learned if he got her aroused fast enough he didn’t need to completely expose himself. Fast sex had become a game for him and he was taking Viagra like it was a vitamin. Keeping the room dark meant he didn’t have to make eye contact and she wouldn’t notice the fear in his eyes. The less connections he had to make the better, but he could tell she was less satisfied each time. Their already limited intercourse became almost nonexistent after Luna was born. 

Without his usual trips to the factory he’d resorted to compulsively running until his body was shaking. He’d return to Crystal and plead exhaustion. He began trusting her with small glimpses into his character. Nothing too revealing, but he started to wonder if he could tell her more. She didn’t seem to realize how monumental it was he was sharing anything with her and she didn’t listen as well as she used to. The thought of her no longer wanting him like she used to and the arrival of the baby led to Pietro looking for more reasons to regularly avoid them even going so far as joining the Inhuman militia. The child made him nervous. No Luna. Her name was Luna. His child. What the fuck was he doing with a child? What was he doing with a wife for that matter?

Whenever he’d actually managed to get off for Crystal he’d always retreated to the bathroom the moment she was asleep. Coming always made him uncomfortable. It brought back memories of that room when one of the men would jerk him off. It always made him feel dirty. Losing control of his body was just one more freedom they took from him. Ever since that first time with her he’d scrub himself trying to remove those memories from his skin. It never worked though and he’d slip back to bed or go for a run before she noticed anything was off. She had gotten accustomed to his strange sleep pattern. He only required about three hours with a short nap halfway through the day, so she didn’t question it when she woke up to an empty bed. 

Whenever he thought of his time with Crystal those moments in the predawn were always at the forefront. He’d run or hold onto her as the memories came over him. They usually came whenever they had sex. As Metis tried to pry into these memories Pietro desperately tried to push him back. His connection grew more strained, the images became fuzzy, and the only clear emotions were his current panic. Releasing the other heroes from the connection so he could focus more on the speedster the assorted super-humans looked on in horror. Pietro was on his hands and knees shaking with the effort of fighting the mental onslaught. Metis was frowning as sweat beaded on his forehead. Pausing he motioned to the engineer at the controls. The air in Pietro’s cell began to buzz and as he was electrocuted his concentration wavered. Renewing his efforts the silent battle continued. 

“Stop! You’ve done enough! Just leave him alone!” Wanda was shouting and hitting the cell walls. The containment field holding them weakened all their powers coupled with the various measures to limit their abilities rendered them practically powerless. The mutants had all been collared before being placed in the cell. The non-mutants were also retrained, but in a much wider variety. Some didn’t require much. The glass was too strong for anyone to break, but that didn’t stop Wanda from trying to reach her twin. “You’ve proved your point!”

“Well unlike you the rest of us are fairly surprised with what he’s been hiding. No need to ruin the fun for the rest of us.” Turning to the man at the control panels Erebus made a gesture smiling. “Use the restraints. We need to test them out anyway.” A pointed metal spike rose suddenly from the ground piercing Quicksilver’s shoulder. Another shot through one of his knees. Crying out at the sudden pain Pietro lost all focus. Laughing Metis broke past the remaining defenses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I wrote this chapter to show the fallout Pietro's possible childhood might've had on his marriage to Crystal. Let me know what you think!


	5. Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter your child shouldn't read. Don't say I didn't warn you.

“Stop! You’ve done enough! Just leave him alone!” Wanda was shouting and hitting the cell walls. The containment field holding them weakened all their powers coupled with the various measures to limit their abilities rendered them practically powerless. The mutants had all been collared before being placed in the cell. The non-mutants were also retrained, but in a much wider variety. Some didn’t require much. The glass was too strong for anyone to break, but that didn’t stop Wanda from trying to reach her twin. “You’ve proved your point!”

“Well unlike you the rest of us are fairly surprised with what he’s been hiding. No need to ruin the fun for the rest of us.” Turning to the man at the control panels Erebus made a gesture smiling. “Use the restraints. We need to test them out anyway.” A pointed metal spike rose suddenly from the ground piercing Quicksilver’s shoulder. Another shot through one of his knees. Crying out at the sudden pain Pietro lost all focus. Laughing Metis broke past the remaining defenses. 

“Sir, sorry to interrupt but something seems to be going on in the East Wing,” the engineer sounded nervous. He was used to silently responding to orders. Having to directly address the man in charge without being prompted was terrifying. Erebus turned his green eyes to the engineer.

“What is so important that you thought you could interrupt our little show?” Erebus said coldly. The question also seemed to hold a promise. If what the engineer had to say wasn’t worth the interruption he would be killed on the spot. His knees shook somewhat as he looked at the floor.

“Sir, some of the guards are saying that a kid has walked up to them saying he has an appointment with you. He claims to be Loki of Asgard.” The only sounds now filling the room were Quicksilver’s groans at the spikes piercing his body. Metis and Erebus exchanged a look.

“Did he say what he was here for?”

“No, Sir. Just that he has some business to work out with the man who captured Thor.” The engineer sounded a little more confident in his information. Erebus looked at the unconscious God of Thunder. 

“I thought Loki was dead. You lot!” Erebus looked at the other Avengers, “Did you know Loki was alive?” The Avenger’s looked at each other unsure if they should answer. Deciding it might distract Erebus from his torture of Pietro, Tony Stark stepped forward.

“The big guy brought him back from the dead or some Lazarus shit. He’s kept him separate from us though. I’ve only seen the kid once, but only Thor knows why Thor brought him back.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Metis said not looking away from Pietro. “Loki is not allied with the Avenger’s to his knowledge.” Erebus looked thoughtfully at the engineer.

“Have him escorted to my office. I’ll meet them there. Metis continue recording here. Don’t start on any of the others until I return,” he said turning and marching from the room. Pietro looked slowly back up at Metis. 

“Please, you’ve done enough. Just… stop now. Please. Don’t do this,” Wanda was silently crying as she pleaded with Metis. Wolverine gave an animalistic growl and leapt at the force field surrounding the cage. He may not like the arrogant mutant, but he knew a lot about bad memories. Storm knelt next to Wanda and put a supportive arm around her shoulder.

“Son, we are going to get out of this cage. When we do you will answer for each of your actions. Think carefully about your next move.” Captain America stood rigidly staring down Metis. Kitty Pryde was once again trying to phase while Colossus pounded the walls with all his human strength.

“There isn’t a cage in the world that can hold the smartest man in the world for long. Pym and Stark can probably find a way out too. You are really outmatched here,” Beast growled trying to lighten the darkening mood in the cage. 

“I’m smart too! It’s only a matter time before we escape and I’m giving you a swirly,” Spiderman said shaking his fist threateningly. Metis gave no indication he’d heard any of them. Quicksilver continued to stare levelly back as the seconds ticked on and his blood spread across the floor.

“Shall we?” Metis said softly. Pietro just glared back. Smiling slightly Metis pushed back into the memory he’d exhumed in the shock of sudden pain. Wanda’s scream as they were all pulled into the memory was lost as darkness closed in.

*

Dust caught on lazy currents swirling to the ground. Through the musty barn the occasional stomp from the farm horse’s hooves and the steady creaking as the wind beat against the timbers seemed strangely distant. It was the calm where the hunted held its breath and prayed. The last moment where things might still turn out okay. The hunter slid over the hay as the child’s heart began to pound. He was tied facing the rough wooden support column. He couldn’t be older than twelve as he listened to a whip snake behind the man approaching him. Pietro closed his eyes as he felt the wind suddenly hit the barn with renewed force. He tried to calm his breath to match the horse somewhere behind him.

The man gave the whip an experimental flick. Even without the crack Pietro flinched. Without warning the whip snapped through the air. When it contacted the fragile back already littered with bruises the boy cried out. Desperately fighting to escape the path of the whip, Pietro began to twist and pull against the bonds. He didn’t notice the blood from his wrists falling to the hay. The horse was eating indifferently in his stall.

The whip continued to caress his skin till it was peeling away from his back. Black spot began to appear on the edges of his vision. His struggles became less desperate. When the whip stopped the barn echoed with the sound of it. The air was alive with the child’s blood. 

“You deserve this, boy. We’re going to have some fun now. I want you to do everything I tell you. If you fail to obey you will be punished. Do you understand?”

“Yes,”

“Yes, Master.” Pietro hesitated and the whip descended again.

“Yes…Master.” The man stepped forward producing a knife a long the way. Seeing the dull shine he began to twist again. “Please… Don’t do this…Please-” the whip was his only answer.

“Did I give you permission to talk?” his voice was low and dangerous. The knife moved through the air cutting at Pietro’s clothing. He didn’t bother trying to spare his body as he hacked leaving small cuts in place of the clothes he was tearing off. “Spread your legs.” Pietro whimpered and shook his head knowing what was coming. The knife pressed into his side. “Do you need to be punished?” In answer Pietro moved his legs further apart. Stepping back to stare at his prize the man laughed. “Look at you spread out like a little whore.” His hands began to move along Pietro’s body appraising. Moving through his hair with extra excitement. “You know when I saw this hair I knew I had to have you. No one misses trash like you. I bet people would come for miles to get a turn with you.” Trailing his fingers down to his hip and back around his stomach slowly. Suddenly both hands were spreading him for inspection. Tracing one finger along his entrance he roughly thrust another finger in. Pietro couldn’t stop the yell when he added another finger. Ignoring the child’s pain the man added a third and continued thrusting in and out stopping only to replace the fingers with his cock. 

Pietro screamed as the man tore into him and brutally gripped his hips as he thrust without mercy. He could feel his blood making his entrance slick as it ran down his legs joining the rest of his blood in the hay. The man suddenly reached around and started pulling on Pietro’s cock. Tears began to join his blood as his body started to respond. Closing his eyes he begged for it to be over quickly. The man was breathing harshly in his ear and he could smell the alcohol on his breath. When the man’s thrusting sped up and became erratic he started pulling painfully on Pietro erasing any pleasure his body might have taken. Come joined the blood moving down his legs as he pulled out wiping himself on Pietro with a rough slap to his abused ass. “My tight little whore. We are going to have so much fun together.”

*

Everyday the man would come. One day he showed up with shackles he anchored to the beam so Pietro could stand up if he’d had the strength. At first he’d fight whenever the man took him. As the weeks passed his weak frame became even more thin and covered in injuries. His body was slowly breaking, but his spirit was breaking along with it. He fought less each day. The pain dulled until he barely felt the beatings some days. The man liked beating him almost as much as forcing himself on him. Some days he’d wordlessly enter with his whip following him or a red-hot poker he’d occasionally use to close up a wound on his pet. On those days he usually didn’t take him. Today as Pietro groaned weakly amid the smell of blood and burning flesh, he wondered what kind of day it would be. 

“Today I’m feeling giving. If you’re good I’ll give you some food and water. Not that you deserve it, eh?” he nudged the boy lying at his feet.

“No, master,” he said not daring to hope the food would come at a fair price.

“Get on your knees,” he said calmly reaching for his belt. Pietro struggled up too hungry to protest. He was so hungry it hurt. He didn’t fight when the man wove his fingers in his hair guiding his movements as he thrust into his mouth. Tears streamed down his eyes when the tip hit the back of his throat and balls hit his chin. When the time came he swallowed the bitter seed knowing what would happen if he didn’t. A few more shallow erratic thrusts and it was over. Once he'd straightened his pants, the man dropped a half a loaf of bread and a few strips of bacon to go with the canteen full of water. “I’m having a little gathering tonight. If you behave and do what I’ve taught you, you’ll get a full days rest as well as more food and water,”

Pietro stared at the ground before the worn boots in front of him. He sat motionless as the barn door closed and a lock was secured on the other side. As the feet retreated he reached for the food. Thinking of the most resent contents of his stomach made the food tasteless and the reward hollow. He ate slowly to avoid making himself sick and wondered where Wanda was now. They’d developed a system for when they got separated, so as long as she followed their plan she’d be waiting for him. If he didn’t return after a month she was supposed to move on. Knowing Wanda she’d wait six months to be sure. 

They’d been having some luck with money when he’d been taken so she’d be able to eat without having to work for a week or more if she was smart. Pietro tried to find work on the farms, but he was too small to be taken on full time. In his spare time he learned how to pick pockets in the streets and he’d become a good fighter in the barn fights he occasionally had to enter in. The money from the fights was always good, but Wanda always got mad at him when she’d have to stitch him up after. Pick pocketing was much more his style. It was all about being quick, sometimes literally if someone caught onto him and he had to run for it. 

He’d been doing his usual route when the man had grabbed him. Freak. That’s what people usually called him when they saw his hair. It’d gotten him into plenty of trouble over the years, but this had to be the worst. The others in the camp would occasionally gang up on him just like the kids in the local village, but as Wanda liked to say “we’re Maximoffs, all we need is each other”. The world wasn’t going to save his sister and pitying himself wasn’t helping him get out of here. 

He looked over his body to once more inventory his injuries. Escape in his condition was unlikely even if he found a way out of the shackles he’d already spent days examining. Maybe if he made himself look weak enough the man would unchain him. He wondered what this gathering was if he was already being promised a day’s rest after. Shaking himself he tried to think of his sister. He remembered the happiness of their childhood when their parents were still alive. Smiling he thought sadly of his parents. Django had done everything in his power to provide for his family. Unbidden thoughts of that night they’d died rose as they always did when he thought of them, the sounds of their screaming, as they burned alive. Whenever the man burned him the smell always made him think of that night. The villagers laughing and waving their tools in the edges of the flames like demons from the stories. That night he’d vowed to make his father proud. He’d set aside childish things and take care of his sister. Metis skipped eagerly to the gathering that night. Six-year-old Pietro’s vow as he watched his supposed parents burn alive apparently not painful enough for him.

A group of men filed into the barn carrying bottles and laughing. Pietro watched from the floor no longer able to stand very long on his own. Some of the men were looking at him excitedly. There had to be a nearly a dozen all surrounding him. “Well who wants to go first?” the man said from the edge of the group. When the first one made to reach for him he pulled back instinctively. “Now, now, haven’t I taught you any manners? Looks like he might need some attention first,” the man said to the laugher and cheers of the others. The man who’d reached for him first kicked him hard in the side and he was sure he felt a rib crack. The others took turns kicking or hitting him and one man who worked with livestock carved his brand into his forearm. When they were satisfied and a few others had added their marks it became clear his master wasn’t the only one who got off hurting him.

Metis made him remember the whole night. Spread on the barn floor with a man at each entrance and a third forcing his hand to finish him off. One would finish and another would quickly take his place until Pietro covered in juices and whimpering. Some of the men didn’t even wait. They just added their seed onto his back or his face. The barn wreaked of sex as the night wore on. By the time they left he couldn’t move and blood was steadily pooling between his legs. The man returned and stood over him. The boy looked completely broken. His face held no real emotion, but tears were flowing from him as steadily as the blood. He dumped a bucket of water on him to wash away some of the filth and dropped more food and water before he silently walked away. He didn’t come the next day. The day after that the food was still sitting untouched.

“The house is empty for a few days. You’ll be joining me in there, but you’re going to need cleaning,” he raised another bucket he’d brought with him and dumped it over him like he had last time. He undid the chain and waited for him to stand. Barely raising his chest off the ground he collapsed with a groan. The man impatiently grabbed an arm and dragged him through the yard and into the small cottage. He dropped him on the floor and looked at him critically. “Might be running out of uses for you. Didn’t you enjoy the other night?” Pietro stayed silent. “Well?”

“Yes, master. I was honored,” he added dully.

“Good, pet. I’m going to give you a bath and close some of those cuts up,” he happily dragged him into a room with a tub and unceremoniously set him down in the ice-cold water. The cold woke muscles back up and was oddly refreshing. He’d barely settled in when he was pulled back out and pinned to the floor. Alcohol was poured over the bigger cuts then he was set before a fire where a thin knife was glowing white-hot. He passed out after the first few touches of the blade. A few hours or maybe a day later he woke before the same fireplace except there was no longer a fire. Testing some of his muscles he was sure it’d been more than a few hours, but he still was in no condition to run. The door opened behind him. “Oh, good you’re finally awake. How would you like to spend the night in a bed?” The night in bed ended up being tied down and spread out covered in fresh blood and sex, but with the addition of a heavy drunk man breathing in his face all night. He closed his eyes and wondered what it felt like to burn alive. Could the flames erase all the pain along with his body? As he turned to ash would there be a moment where the world was suddenly okay again? The pain would go away to be replaced with peace and he’d get to stop running. Soon, he promised himself.

*

Metis suddenly released him from the memory. The final thought of what Pietro imagined death to be like had calmed him down, but the scene in the cage was chaos. Wanda was no longer the only one crying. Someone was throwing up in the corner. Steve looked like he might throw up as he stared at the ground. They weren’t simply seeing into Quicksilver’s past, but living it. His pain and all his feelings in that nightmare were overwhelming. They didn’t experience it first hand, but if they had many of them would have broken at the loss Pietro felt. The betrayal. 

The metal had pulled out of Pietro at some point. He pushed himself up and watched Metis slowly testing his leg to see how much weight it could take. “Well that was interesting. Now, I can tell they had lots of those gatherings. You were there for a long time so how did you survive?”

“I didn’t,” he said softly.

“Doesn’t it make you wish you weren’t one of the good guys? If not you could find them and take your revenge.”

“Who said I was a good guy?” he said calmly. Before Metis could reply the engineer cleared his throat.

“Sir, Erebus is trying to get through to you. He said Loki hinted the mutant might not have come alone.”

“Interesting, well let him know I’ll take what we need from him,” he turned back to the small cell. At the engineer’s words Pietro had started vibrating his whole body at super speed. Within second he was glowing with kinetic energy and he charged against one of the corners of the cell breaking through. Before anyone could move he’d snapped the engineer’s neck and killed a dozen of the guards. He didn’t touch Metis in case he was needed to open the cage, but he left a smear of blood on the wall in front of Wanda as he sped out of the room towards the towers he hadn’t destroyed yet. 

“Well, that’s new,” Spiderman said in the silence. Metis was standing in shock staring at the bodies around him. It had all happened in less than four seconds. He turned to the engineer and realized he was also dead. Snarling he moved to the controls to call for back up as the remaining men spread out. Before he reach them the power in half the room died. The cage was on it’s own circuit so the blue glow from the walls continued to dimly light the room. The darkness in the room seemed to grow thicker and the glow no longer reached the entire room. Movement could be heard in the darkness, scuttling and scraping in one corner only to stop and start in another corner.

“Show yourself!” one of the guards yelled into the silence. A soft laugh started near the ceiling then echoed until it was impossible to find the source. It wasn’t the laugh of an evil mastermind. It was the laugh of evil, an excited giggling at the rising fear of everyone in the room.

“You can not frighten me. I have looked into the very worst minds. I have seen and done things that would make the devil pale,” Metis sounded fairly confident as he started to search for the mind connected to the laugher. 

“What does a man know of devils?” the voice said from everywhere. Metis found the consciousness and invaded it as forcefully as he could. However, the mind he found wasn’t trying to avoid the attack. It welcomed him and at the same time Metis was pulled into the memories the helmet he was wearing shorted out allowing the rest of the room to watch in shock as his arrogant features contorted. For a moment he made no noise. He stood with his mouth slightly open as his eyes slowly filled with horror. Falling to his knees he let out a scream that could’ve broken glass. The laughter continued as the men started shooting wildly. Flames swallowed a few of them and they added their screams to the chaos, as they burned alive. The laughter became more distant and then stopped altogether. When the lights returned only one guard was still standing as Metis continued to moan and rock him self muttering, “Drink mother’s blood and you’ll be strong… Pure… Sacrifice the cat… Must keep him pleased… Evil… The angels are laughing now…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a bunch more memories for Pietro, but I when I got to writing I decided this fic would be more of a team one. I might do another fic all Pietro, angst, and an OFC cause Pietro will need lots of love when I'm done with him. Next chapter I want to focus on the team up a bit more. While you're waiting review!


	6. Journey Into Hell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some descriptions of Hell that might be a little intense. Hopefully.

Red alarm lights were pulsing around the room. A siren was screaming. The lone survivor stared at the carnage in complete shock. He barely moved when the radio on his ear began doing role call. Almost too late he checked in and explained the situation numbly. The Avenger’s watched in shock. A few of them had suspicions about the fire. Dr. Strange had worked with the Son of Satan sporadically, but steadily less over the years. He’d watched Daimon show more and more signs of his ancestry as his Dark Soul had slowly encroached on his human soul. Small hints of his nature usually showed in a fight when he was channeling his demonic blood, but this was a whole new level. Even with his magic blocked he’d felt the evil pouring from him. The sick pleasure in destroying. 

Wanda stared at where her brother had been moments before. She placed her hand against the smear of blood he’d left in front of her. Storm was still sitting next to her trying to comfort her.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Pietro can look after himself,”

“He always has,” she said absently looking at her brother’s blood.

“None of what happened was your fault, either of you. I grew up as a thief on the streets in Africa. The world is often an unkind place to lost children. I’m sorry for you both,” she said gently.

“We never had a chance.”

“He needs to talk to someone, but you both still have a chance, Wanda. We’re your family too,” Hawkeye had come to join the conversation. Most of the caged Avengers were listening now.

“I found him you know. I heard some men talking in the street one day about a silver-haired orphan some man was selling out. I waited until the barn was empty and snuck in… There was so much blood, but he looked so empty. It took weeks for him to be able to walk again. As soon as he could we left. I knew it had to have been bad, he was so broken after. I put a lot of the pieces together over the years, but all I could do was keep him company. I used to just look at him and know exactly what he was feeling. When I saw him that day, I knew he’d lost something of himself and he’d not be whole again.” She still looked completely shocked.

“Wanda…” Steve began to talk not entirely sure what to say in this situation, but suddenly the room filled with two-dozen new guards. They waited as the last guard hastily moved through then began initiating a lock-down. Once all the doors were secured so no one could get in or out the men began talking excitedly.

“Hey Fives, you know what’s happening? All I heard was fire in the South tower, then someone else said tornado in West tower,” one of the anonymous soldiers said eagerly from the door.  
“Dunno. Look at these bodies. I heard something burned a bunch of guys, but I didn’t believe it. Is that Metis?”

“He went into whatever it was that did this and came back screaming. Hasn’t said anything coherent since then. Just keeps talking about the father and evil and sacrificing cats,” the survivor was still standing there looking at the cowering form of Metis.

“You were here then? What happened?”

“That Quicksilver guy ran out. Metis was pulling him apart. Never felt bad for one before, but… Well he got out then the lights shut off and it all went to hell.” A few of the men laughed mockingly.

“Gone soft, huh? I don’t know that sounds like some Exorcist shit to me.”

“Rex! Flicker the lights a bit. I wanna see what these pussies do.” As soon as the lights turned off Metis began to scream again and the survivor dropped to the ground. The laughter continued for a few moments, but rather than flicker the lights simply stayed completely off.

“Alright, Rex, put ‘em back on. We gotta look out for devils.” Nothing happened.

“Stop fucking around, Rex!” Silence. Then, BANG. Machine gun fire erupted without warning spattering the walls of the cell with ribbons of blood. There were flashed of machine guns and screams, but it was unclear who was shooting at who. When the gunfire stopped after a few seconds only one soldier was still able to fight. He crawled to the lit cage leaving a trail of blood, lighting a flare as he retreated. The room was filled with fresh corpses and a few groaning survivors. In the center of it stood the soldier who’d entered last. The red light of the flare lit under him reflecting off the blood spattering across the blazing white skull on his chest, as he silently watched the last man drag himself away. 

“Oh god, please…don’t kill me…god…Please I’ll never touch a gun again… Oh God…” The Punisher took calm measured steps through the bodies. Casually shooting the breathing ones without looking at them until he stood before the shaking man at his feet. “Please don-” BANG!

“Castle! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steve Rogers was the quickest to recover.

Castle simply pulled his knife out of Rex’s shoulder allowing the arteries to give a few weak spurts. The single wound had pierced specifically to kill quickly and quietly, a grim reminder of Castle’s tactics.

“What’s going on, Frank?” Daredevil chose to wait to yell at Castle and get answers for now. At least he was always right to the point.

“Rescue mission,” he didn’t look up. Maybe too concise.

“Frank…”

“Murdock.”

“Bub, now would be a good time to explain,” Wolverine growled. He liked Castle. Logan understood that sometimes it was better to kill.

“Venom heard something through your channels and came to me for Intel. I’d heard rumors for a while. He asked for help. I came.”

“Whom else did you two call in? Did you know Quicksilver, Loki, and possibly Daimon Hellstrom are here?” Dr. Strange had stood up.

“Didn’t we send Venom to arrest Hellstrom?” Hawkeye said slightly exasperated. Frank just shrugged and pulled out an earpiece.

“So what now?”

“Cell-block is clear.” The response came through while he stood waiting rechecking his weapon. “Stall then,” he started piling the bodies in front of the door striping them as he went. “Use the C4,” he threw a severed arm on the pile. “Why not?” he started spreading the extra guns throughout the room. “Just do something fast. Then get here.”

“Frank you’re starting to sound like a teenage girl gossiping away. I hope you went with the unlimited plan. Those minutes really start to add-” Spiderman’s quip was cut off by an explosion bending the door slightly, but not completely unhinging it do to the improvised human sandbags. As soldiers began trying to widen the gap, Frank open fired with deadly accuracy, occasionally adding a grenade to the bullets. 

“Get down here,” he said calmly into the earpiece.

“Castle! Incoming!” Wolverine warned him just in time to jump behind the controls as an RPG tore through the fragments on the door sending shrapnel in all directions. Frank reemerged mostly intact and continued to keep the assault from advancing past the door, but suddenly the soldiers started moving the other way now being attacked from both sides. Castle stood as a black figured entered, hands up in mock surrender.

“Where’re the others?”

“Good to see you too. I’m fine by the way,” Agent Venom stood observing the carnage. 

“You’re bullet proof.”

“It’s the gesture, Castle. You know, you ask how I am then I return the gesture.” The Punisher just stared at him. “We can work on that later, then.”

“Venom, what were you thinking bringing him into this?” Captain America stepped forward to the cleanest section of wall.

“Sir, I’ve worked with him before and needed his experience.”

“He’s a murderer,” Spiderman sounded disgusted.

“There weren’t many options…”

“So you found the Punisher, the Son of Satan, and the god of Evil?” Hawkeye had joined Cap in the interrogation.

“Quicksilver’s here too,” he said hopefully.

“Was that part of the plan?” Wanda had looked up at her brother’s codename. “Where is he?”

“He’s diverting forces to the-”

“Is he alright?”

“Uh, I don’t-” 

“Contact him, now.”

“He’s busy-”

“Now!”

“I can’t believe you brought the Punisher.”

“Castle might be the reason we make it out of this, web-head,”

“Logan you can’t seriously be in support of his tactics,”

“Isn’t that why you wanted me on the team? Do the necessary thing?”

“What step is this plan on, cause I’m still locked in a cage without my suit,” Iron Man said over the shouting voices in the cell. Suddenly a dozen men moved into the cellblock. Venom ducked and tried to retreat, but was quickly cut off. Castle slide out of the shadows and dispatched the ambush in less than ten seconds.

“Quicksilver and Hellstrom drew the rest of the guards away while we did this. They should be here soon. Now all of you shut the fuck up,” he turned back to the door to continue his watch.

“When did the Punisher become the voice of reason?”

“Castle, we have incoming,” Venom joined him at the door.

“Cover left, kid,” Venom nodded and fired quickly.

“Sorry we’re late! Daimon had to blow up half of our route,” Loki had leapt from one of Daimon’s portals that closed as Daimon himself stepped through. The flames hung from his shoulders as he sent a burst of soul fire through the door.

“Watch it! Fire bad, dipshit,” the symbiote had screamed at the passing flames and Venom quickly backed away.

“Loki,” Stark was staring at him uncertainly. 

“Wonderful guess. I must really be famous. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he walked quickly to the controls and began typing in passwords and codes with blinding speed.

“How do you know how to use a computer?” Tony said nervously.

“Oh, when I learned we were to live on Midgard I procured a Stark Phone to learn more about Midgard itself. Humans of the internet are uncouth, but very informative.” He gave a triumphant hah and the walls of the cell vanished. The moment they were down he rushed passed the nervous heroes to kneel beside Thor. Placing a hand on his chest he began to speak in an ancient tongue. His hand and Thor’s chest glowed slightly green until Thor shot up with a gasp of air.

He blinked in confusion then noticed the child sitting beside him. “Loki? What are you doing here, brother?”

“Saving you, you oaf. I really do enjoyed that villainous talk, but I hope I never sounded like that Erebus.” Thor stood and placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. He gave a deep laugh and looked affectionately at his teammates glad to have his brother here with his shield-mates.

“Well is there a step, whatever’s next, of this plan?”

Quicksilver burst through, leg and shoulder now covered in blood. Wanda immediately supported some of his weight as he avoided eye contact with the whole room.

“You said a few people, Agent.” Daimon didn’t look inclined to great anyone in the room.

“What’s the problem?”

“It will take more energy than I currently have to take this many very far. Stephen, can you help me with a portal?”

“No. We all need time to recover it seems,”

“How far can you make it?” Steve asked immediately taking the leadership position. 

“Not far enough if half of you are powerless.”

“I shall fight these cowards,” Thor said tasting battle.

“We need to retreat and plan. You’re just going to have to take us as far as you can and we’ll find somewhere safe to come up with a plan.”

“They’ve probably found all out secret locations, Cap,” Tony reminded him.

Steve reluctantly turned to the Punisher who was silently watching the door for approaching guards between waves, “Castle, do you have a safe house for this many?”

“Last one just got raided. Others are too small.”

“What about a portal to your place, Daimon?” Loki suddenly spoke up from behind Thor.

“You mean in Hell?” Spiderman said sarcastically never taking his eyes off the Punisher.

“Not really the place to bring guests. I can get there though. The demons under my control won’t give you much trouble,”

“Much?” someone whispered.

“Demons are the one thing they haven’t prepared for,” Frank said suddenly. 

“Okay, Hellstrom open a portal. Anyone with powers left stay in the back. Castle you aren’t killing anyone else today.” Steve moved to stand next to Frank. Hellstrom opened another flaming portal and led the way into his domain. As the others hesitantly began to follow, Beast joined Wanda to help the speedster limp along.

“I did my part, Steve. I can find my own way out,” the Punisher began to move toward the other door, but Cap stopped him.

“You’re the only one with any Intel on this group. We’re going to need to hear what you know, soldier,”

“Haven’t been a soldier for a long time, Steve,” he turned to the portal, not one to turn down the Captain when he could avoid it. Loki was keeping the door sealed with his magic while Venom and Thor stood waiting for the others to get through. When the last people were passing through Loki released his magic and Venom fired a few shots to keep the advancing soldiers back. Thor’s hammer passed through the center of the crowd as he waited for his brother to pass into safety. The second Venom and Thor passed through, the portal shut.

They were standing atop a large hill of black stone. A path led down the hill towards a flat valley. Screams could be heard in the distance and huge creatures were moving towards them. A monster of a demon landed before Daimon. His eyes glowed red like his master’s beneath black horns and he growled at the living humans in his territory.

“Masssssster, the living meatssss are not welcome here unlessss they are for eating.” He crawled menacingly toward Rogue on four skeletal limbs all ending in fierce claws.

“This is my land, Beelzebub. You do not decide who comes and goes,” his eyes glowed slightly brighter and the demon recoiled hissing in pain. “No one is to touch them. Am I understood?”

“Yesssss Massster knowss what is besssst. No one will eatsss the fressssh meat.”

“Good. What’s happened since I left?” Daimon began walking down the path not bothering to see if the others were following.

“New soulsss, Massster. We carried on as you asked on the old onessss,”

“Anything interesting?”

“Jussst a man who raped children and chopped them up for the dogssss to eat and another who went on a rampage in an officcce,” the demon sounded amused.

“Hmm. What did you do with them?”

“Ssssent them to the rackssss to wait for you, Massster,”

“And the others?”

“Jussst the normal killerssss, liarsss, and theivesss. We sent them to Shaakar to be devoured for eternity.”

“Good. Go tell the others they aren’t to hurt my guests. I’ll go decide what to do with the others later.” The demon bowed and took to the air, spreading massive leathery wings as Daimon looked at the disgusted faces behind him. “You’re in Hell. What did you expect me to be doing here?” He continued walking. Most of the valley was full off huge pits with narrow bridges crossing them leading to a cruel looking house that usually featured in haunting movies.

Looking into the pit they were walking over, Captain looked down at the dark shapes impaled on huge spikes. Being dead already they just continued to scream around the stakes sticking out of their mouths while small imps whispered in their ears or clawed across their rotting bodies. “Hellstrom, this is disgusting.”

“You know, Christians love to talk of damnation and condemn each other to Hell, but once they see it they loose their bloodlust. These people you’re pitying are the very worse humanity has to offer, Captain.”

“So what you don’t enjoy doing this?”

“It’s in my blood. If I was reluctant to pull someone’s finger nails off it would take away from the punishment.” After that everyone tried to avoid looking into the pits and try to ignore the screams all around them. As they got closer to the house demons began to land around them watching like hungry predators, but not daring to disobey Daimon. “Whatever you do don’t leave the house unless I am with you.”

“I don’t think anyone wants to go exploring here, Hellstrom,” Venom said not trying to hide his disgust.

“I can see why you chose to cut back on your time here. This is depressing and I’ve been to Hela’s and Mephisto’s lands.” Loki sounded the same as if they were walking through the park.

“Truly this is a grim place, Son of Satan,” Thor was looking into the pit they were passing over with a few bodies suspended by their own organs.

“Can we leave yet?” Spiderman asked after he finished being sick between pits alongside Kitty Pryde.

“I won’t need long here to return to full strength,” they’d finally reached the house. The door opened silently as Daimon approached. “Welcome to Hell, I’m sure you’ll hate your stay.”

The ragged group cautiously entered the house and followed Daimon to a sitting room that seemed to expand to accommodate all of the heroes. Wanda and Beast supported Pietro to the couch. Once he was sitting Wanda sat next to him and helped him lay back so he could rest his head on her lap at Beast propped his wounded leg up on the couch. “Is it okay if I take a look at these?” Beast was cautious ripping Quicksilver’s clothes without his permission.

“I’m not made of glass, Hank,” he glared at Beast. Nodding he began looking at the bleeding leg before him, slowly ripping the ruined fabric away. “You’re tendons and bones are all still intact. It looks like they just shifted around the spike,” he said thoughtfully.

“My body has to withstand so many thousand impacts per second.”

“Makes sense. We’ll just bind them until I can get a needle. Unless the creepy skull guy has one?” he said turning to Frank still under the watchful eye of half the Avengers. He’d been the least affected by the carnage outside. Fishing in one of the pockets on his pants he wordlessly tossed a small medical kit to Beast.

“Okay, Castle, what do you know?” Spiderman said as he hung from the ceiling in the corner.

“Scientists from Hydra, AIM, and a few others were working together on a secret weapon. Wasn’t sure what it was until they recruited a sadistic telepathic torturer and his associate, some mysterious tech genius, they were trying to copy Xavier’s designs to record and sell memories to the highest bidders.”

“Working together?” Wolverine asked.

“Evil team up with a limited run. Only Erebus and Metis knew the full designs. They were brought in as a neutral party.”

“Venom, what’s the situation on the surface?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary, but with all of you gone and the Fantastic Four in another dimension the remaining X-Men and independent heroes were pretty busy.”

“Can Erebus rebuild?”

“He’ll have to start from scratch again. I took the liberty of erasing his whole system,” Loki said proudly from next to Thor. 

“So we just need to go beat up some scientists and track down Erebus?”

“Castle, do you have any idea where he’d be next?”

They continued making a plan for the next half hour. Daimon used his extra powers in his land to restore all of their abilities. The rescue group was expected to wait in Avenger’s tower while the others completed a series of strikes to erase any information on the weapon and figure out what Hydra and the others were using the free time for. Once they had their assignments Daimon opened a final portal.

“Agent, Castle, kid, Maximoff, I hope to not see any of you soon,”

“Aren’t you coming, friend Daimon?”

“I have business here, kid.” Loki looked disappointed.

“I understand. I shall ‘see you around’ I suppose?” staring at the hopeful eyes of the godling, Daimon small heart cracked slightly.

“I’ll check up after I’m done here. Go on, kid. You’ve got the whole heroic thing going on now.” Loki smiled and jumped through after the others. Thor nodded in gratitude to the closest thing his younger brother had to a friend and followed. 

“Real nice place you’ve got here, but forgive me if I never come back,” Spiderman ran through the portal eager to leave.

“Thanks, Hellstrom. You did a good thing,”

“Let’s not add forced gratitude to this mess, Captain.” Steve sighed and left. Now Daimon stood alone in the creaking house. Listening to the demons laugh as hundreds of souls screamed in agony.

“Do you always come out of his portals choking on ash?”

“Come on we all have work to do. Wanda we need you in this,”

“Brother, will you…”

“Go Wanda. I’m fine,” accepting the lie for the moment she sped after her group. The X-Men took off to rejoin their people, Magneto barely looking at his children. Venom and Castle supported Quicksilver to the medical level of the tower, while Loki ran around them talking excitedly.

“I’d say that was a tremendous success! We should create our own team! What does a skull, an alien symbiote that feeds off rage, a god of lies, a demon, and the fastest man alive have in common?”

“Death and destruction?” Venom supplied.

“Not a very good team name, but we could work with that,”

“What do I have to do with death?” Pietro said indignantly.

“You never know when to expect either of you?”

“I can accept that,”

“Does that mean you want to be a team?”

“No,”

“Agent?”

“I’m already on a couple. Sorry, kid.”

“Pale skull?”

“Don’t do teams,”

“Well I guess that leaves Daimon and me,”

“You shouldn’t hang out with him, kid. That guy is really bad news,”

“People might say the same of all of us,”

“You’re-”

“Loki, the former god of Evil responsible for the first gathering of earth’s mightiest heroes and the destruction of Asgard. You’re wearing Venom one of the Spiderman’s worst adversaries. I don’t suppose I need to elaborate on Castle.”

“What about me?” 

“I think you’re hilarious, but the other’s don’t seem to hold my sentiment,”

“Good point.” Castle had led them to the medical bay, having memorized the blueprints to Stark Tower on each rebuild. Helping Quicksilver lay down on one of the clean beds Venom and Loki left in search of food, Venom promising to teach Loki how to make his own milkshakes. The Punisher stayed to help Quicksilver change out of his blood-soaked uniform.

“Can you not look?”

“At what?”

“Me. Just give me some privacy, alright?”

“Your scars something you’re ashamed of?”

“You would be too.” Frank shrugged and pulled off his vest and shirt to start pulling out some shrapnel that’d hit his shoulder. He was completely unconcerned showing the huge assortment of scars covering most of his body. “Maybe not then,”  
Quicksilver began changing when Frank showed no more interest in trying to help him further. Out of everyone, the Punisher was to only one not looking at him with pity. “Castle…”

“Hmm?”

“How did you survive all of that?”

“I didn’t.”

“Not helpful.” Frank turned to look at him as he wrapped his shoulder.

“I was pretty lost after a few tours. She’s what brought me back.”

“How?”

“She accepted me.”

“Wanda and the others-”

“Want you to be like them, but you aren’t. You need to find your own way. Get some rest.”

“Where are you going?”

“My own way. I have work to do.” With that Frank left the room, probably stealing a few new weapons on his way out of the tower. Pietro didn’t bother trying to stop him. He didn’t really care what Castle did. He had Jarvis shut the lights of and succumbed to exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it! I wanted to get the others out of the way to have some moments between the main rescue team, so next chapter should just be the core team in this fic.


	7. Take-Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I’m already going on this story and I probably should have said a few things before the first chapter, but this is my first fic so I might’ve been a little eager to start posting quickly. I wanted to let you know, if you haven’t realized already that this story follows the comic books rather than the movie verse. I’m mostly referencing stuff from the Venom series and Kieron Gillen’s run on Journey Into Mystery. For those of you not reading the series some of the references might be a little confusing, but they aren’t going to be key to the story though I highly recommend both series.

“Alright, what kind do you want to make?” Flash was pulling ice cream out of the freezer and setting them around the blender.

“How many kinds are there?”

“You’ve got almost infinite possibilities.”

“Hmmm… Let’s raid the cupboards,” Loki began opening and shutting doors, pulling out random things until there was a small pile of mismatched foods next to the blender.

“Well I’m gonna say no to the mustard and the can of tuna fish… Actually how ‘bout I pick the ingredients?” Venom said holding a bell pepper in one hand and a lemon in the other.

“I confess I am not familiar with most of the things I grabbed.”

“Didn’t notice. How about you pick the ice cream? You can taste each of them till you find a favorite.”

“Excellent suggestion, Agent. Milkshake composition should not be taken lightly.” Venom smiled and handed Loki a spoon and the first carton of ice cream. After tasting and retesting the half dozen flavors Loki settled on the mint chocolate chip.

“Do you need to go home anytime soon?” Venom did not want to incur the wrath of the gods for causing Loki to get home past curfew or whatever the god’s equivalent of curfew was.

“No one will notice my absence. I try to avoid my fellow Asgardians. While I understand my unpopularity I have no intention of allowing them the opportunity to ‘jump me’,” he made air quotes as he watched Venom loaded the blender with cookie dough and caramel with the chosen ice cream.

“You get bullied a lot?”

“It will pass. A millennia of misdeeds naturally results in few friends.”

“Why don’t you fight back?”

“I can not give them any reason to think I retained my god of Evil persona. Eventually they will tire of their sport.” Loki shrugged unconcernedly and leaned over the blender.

“They’ll end up respecting that.”

“My refusal to fight?”

“Yeah. I knew this kid, real dick, who liked to pick on anyone smaller than him. One of the kids he liked to beat up learned how to fight back, but instead of beating the bully up he just ignored him and refused to fight back. Eventually he had to respect this kid who was half his size, but refused to sink to the same level.”

“Were you one of these kids?” Loki was now looking at Venom with as much interest as he had watched the blender with.

“Ashamed to admit I was the bully. Hard thing changing a rep like that, but you’re on the right track. Like you said it just takes time.”

“I respect you’re change of character, Agent. What happened to the one you came to respect?”

“Actually he’s one of my only friends these days,” he smiled slightly as he thought of Peter Parker and started pouring out the finished shake.

“Should we bring our victory shake to share with the others?”

“Castle has probably cleared out knowing him. I don’t really know Quicksilver personally, but you can try if you want.”

“I think he probably needs a milkshake.” Loki said sagely. 

Pietro had been asleep for maybe a half hour when he woke shaking. He was feeling the after effects of Metis and memories long buried continued to plague his dreams. For a moment he felt like he was back in that barn. He could smell the musty hay and feel it scratching his face as he was forced to lie down. Now that he was awake his head was pounding. Giving up on sleep entirely he cast around for a distraction. He was watching television, still shaking slightly, when Venom and Loki entered carrying four milkshakes.

“Thought we’d keep you company and Loki thought you might want a milkshake.” Venom said uncertainly approaching the surly speedster. 

“Star Wars!” Loki pulled up a chair and sat next to Pietro completely engrossed in the film, oblivious to Venom’s discomfort. “This is one of my favorite Midgardian performances.”

“You’ve got good tastes for an alien,” Venom pulled a chair up on the other side of the bed and handed over one of the milkshakes. “You know they’re going to make three more of these?”

“Oh yes I am quite excited. I plan on going to a Midgardian performance hall once they come out. Perhaps I’ll sneak onto the set to get in a few of the background shots.”

“Who’s the other milkshake for?” Quicksilver asked too tired to tell them to fuck off.

“Daimon said he’d come back once he had finished other business,” Loki replied happily.

“How did you meet Hellstrom?” Venom didn’t like the way Loki seemed to look up to Daimon. The Son of Satan wasn’t the ideal role model for a recovering god of Evil.

“Oh that’s a rather long story. It involves a crown forged of pure fear and several fear lords.” Loki was smiling reminiscently into his milkshake.

“I met him when Vegas got pulled into Hell,”

“Midgard is truly a strange place.”

“I haven’t seen this in a long time.” A familiar, cold voice said suddenly as a shirtless man entered the room trailing the remnants of a flaming portal.

“Daimon! Come we made an extra milkshake for you.” Loki had leapt to his feet and moved a chair over to the group for Daimon.

“Wonderful.”

“So how’s Hell?” Venom said awkwardly.

“I might take a break from my realm for a while.” Hellstrom sat beside Loki and accepted his milkshake smoothly.

“I can’t imagine why.”

“New York isn’t that much better.” Daimon was smirking at Venom trying to get a rise out of him. 

“Where do you plan on going?” Loki asked. “Leah’s cave is empty,” he added hopefully.

“No caves. You know, you both might want to look into better living places, too.” Venom sighed and looked at the floor nodding. 

“I wanted to move to Philly, but turns out the whole superhero thing is a real time suck, so I only have an apartment for a few more days.”

“Where do you intend to live? Perhaps the Avenger’s can find somewhere for you.” Loki was looking pointedly at Quicksilver who rolled his eyes and looked over at Venom.

“Don’t move into Avenger’s tower or a school. That’s all the advice I can give you. Isn’t your Avenger’s salary sufficient?” Quicksilver had easily slipped back into a bored voice to cover his true emotions. 

“My mom moved into a facility that costs a fortune. I need to find a roommate soon.”

“I am also without a permanent residence.” Quicksilver remarked hollowly, finishing his milkshake in a few quick swallows.

“You can move into the Asgardian ruins with me!”

“Thanks for the offer, but Oklahoma is farther from New York than I was hoping.” Venom said smiling.

“I’ve got a mansion next to Fire Lake in New England. It’s been empty for a few years, but I’ve been considering finding tenants.”

“You want to rent this place out?”

“Well I’m planning on moving back in to get out of Hell for a while, but you can stay with me I suppose. You are all somewhat less annoying than the others and I would rather not have the place to myself.”

“It’s not haunted is it?” Venom sounded dubious.

“Only by my memories. Hopefully the sound of your voice blocks those out.”

“This would be a temporary thing, but if I did move in can you find a way for me to get to and from Philly easy?”

“I could, but only to one place and back to the Estate.”

“Can I come visit this place? The ruins of Asgard tend to leak and collapse.”

“So long as you don’t bring that dog of yours.”

“Ah, well Thori has returned to Hell. It seems he could not be trusted.”

“Your other friend’s probably glad to be rid of him?”

“Leah is once dead and once gone to another timeline. We are all that remains of the original gang, Daimon.”

“Sorry, kid. I didn’t hear. You can drop by whenever you want, but I am not responsible for you and we are not a team.”

“Deal! Quicksilver will you join our not team?”

“Avenger’s Academy is closed and I have no wish to stay here. Perhaps I might take a room.”

“We should also call Castle in!”

“Doubt he’d come, kid. Frank’s kinda got the whole lone wolf thing going on.”

“The invitation to my residence was not for everyone you’ve ever had contact with, Loki. I don’t want Full House, just a few people who don’t mind seeing a couple demons every now and then and won’t get all judgmental.”

“So Castle isn’t invited?”

“He’s the last one, but only because I doubt he’ll come.”

“Agent you will tell him won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Venom’s phone began to ring and he smiled slightly at the unknown number having a feeling who the caller was. “Speak of the devil. What’s going on?”

“I found Erebus,” Frank didn’t bother acknowledging the greeting.

“Erebus? I thought the Avenger’s had that covered?”

“He found Erebus?” Quicksilver sat up and held his hand out for the phone. “Give me the phone.” He snatched the phone from Venom while he was still listening to Frank’s recent findings. Ignoring Venom’s annoyed grumble, Pietro asked where he was and was already getting up. “Seeyoulater.” He dressed in his bloody uniform and ran out in a blur.

“What do you think he’d planning on doing when he gets there?” Loki asked curiously jumping onto the vacated bed.

“I wouldn’t worry too much. He can’t do worse than Frank.”

*

“What do you plan on doing?”

“Killing him. You have a problem with that?”

“Not particularly.” He handed Quicksilver one of his knives without looking away from his target.

“Good.”

“I’ll take out the front guards. Then you go in. Keep one alive. He might not be in there and we might be able to get his location out of one of the guards.”

Pietro had already sprinted off toward the empty warehouse by the docks and barely noticed the men’s heads exploding from the Punisher’s bullets. Rather than knock these guards out he deliberately hit them so their necks would snap on impact. Entering the warehouse he was faced with a dozen men. He stopped and smiled. “No one leaves.”

In an explosion of tempered force he launched himself at the first man launching him into the air. Before he’d gotten more than a few feet off the ground he was across the room plunging the knife into another man’s heart, drawing it to charge to the next man slashing his throat. The spray of blood met empty air as Pietro moved on stabbing then throwing the knife back toward the first man he’d thrown. Slowly falling through the air the man’s throat met the knife on its next rotation and continued spinning, but not before Pietro caught it and began stabbing the last guard at super speed until there was a hole right through the middle of him. Dropping the barely recognizable corpse he turned to the last man still smiling. The carnage barely took four seconds in total.

“Where is he?” he said as he sprinted at the man and pinned him to the wall with the knife firmly lodged in his shoulder.

“I don’t know…fuck this hurts…” Pietro nodded and removed the knife. As the man started to slide down the wall he smoothly cut his throat and sped out.

“He didn’t know anything.”

“You didn’t give him much time.”

“I suppose you’re the expert.”

“I am. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgment. Think.”

“You’re the one with all the answers. Do you know where he is?”

“No but I have a contact that deals in this type of Intel. I can put you two in contact.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“I’m not.” Pietro stared at him for a moment trying to read his expression. 

“Just tell your friend to get a hold of me.”

Frank watched as Pietro took off. He’d heard what Metis pulled from Quicksilver over the guard’s radios. Even if he could he didn’t have any plans to stop him. From what he’d seen of Pietro he wasn’t worried he’d hurt innocents. All that destruction would be internalized with drugs and withdrawing from everyone around him. No one Pietro knew was equipped to deal with this. It would take someone with the patient of a saint and abnormal levels of empathy. Frank had an idea.

*

Pietro stumbled back into the infirmary covered in blood. Loki had fallen asleep in one of the other beds while Daimon and Venom sat working out living arrangements. Only that morning Venom had freed Daimon for the cell on the Raft that he’d put him in weeks before. The sudden turn of events made the whole conversation somewhat surreal. At least this way he’d be able to keep a close eye on Daimon. He tried to comfort himself with that idea knowing full well it was only because he had no where else to go that he was moving into the Son of Satan’s house.

When Pietro limped past them Daimon stared hungrily at him. “You killed them.” It wasn’t a question. He could feel the death and the dying screams of the men falling off Pietro’s weary shoulders.

“You have a problem with that?” He squared off defensively waiting for one of them to disagree with his actions.

“I heard through the radios what happened in there…” Venom stopped realizing he probably shouldn’t have brought that up by the way Quicksilver’s eyes flashed. “Sorry, it’s just I’d have done the same thing if I were you. I have no problem with it, but the others probably will. You should clean that blood off. Daimon can burn your suit.”

“That would probably be a wise decision. Have they checked in yet?”

“Not yet. They’ll probably figure out you did it though between Wolverine and Daredevil’s tracking skills. You should rest before they get back here.”

“Lay down. I can heal those wounds and remove the blood.” Daimon guided Pietro to his bed making a slight motion with his hand so all the gore vanished from Pietro’s uniform. Once he was flat he began healing the reopened wounds on his shoulder and knee. Where his hands touched him a faint glow started. It slowly grew to a blinding white brilliance and as soon as it dimmed there was no sign of any injuries. Daimon released a shaky breath and opened his flaming eyes. Except they were no longer flaming.

They were a bright, clear blue and his hair had faded to a golden blond. He seemed to radiate warmth. The others stared at him shocked. “Healing brings out my humanity. Rather embarrassing, but it will fade.” Even as he spoke he began to change. His birthmark looked more sharply defined and his red eyes seemed much colder beneath his flaming hair.

“Is that what you would look like if you weren’t part demon?”

“More or less. I didn’t start changing until I was older and my Dark Soul had grown more powerful.” Venom was looking at Daimon as though he was seeing him for the first time. He hadn’t realized what being the Son of Satan might entail. He’d just assumed Daimon was always an asshole. He turned to Quicksilver to see what he thought but the healing had put him to sleep almost immediately. 

* 

“Frank, how’re you holding up?” a slim figure joined Castle on an anonymous roof top and immediately pulled him into a tight hug he comfortably returned.

“I want you to help someone out for me.” He backed away and took in her appearance, checking for any hint of injury.

“Did you make a friend?” 

“No. This guy needs help though. Not my kind of help. I thought you might actually like him.” He turned and looked back at the metropolis below them, checking for any sign of coming attacks. The woman sat comfortably on the edge of the building so her legs were swinging freely in the open air.

“I’m not a therapist you know.”

“It’d take more than therapy. Just take a look at him and decide for yourself.”

“Alright. I brought you dinner by the way.”

“Why?”

“Because even you need to eat, Rambo, and there’s no sense in both of us eating alone.” She rolled her eyes at him and spun her legs back onto the roof.

“What’ve you got, kid?” She smiled mischievously a produced a bag of take-out.

*

The Avengers descended on the location they’d received the tip on. Inside was reminiscent of Hell. It was nearly impossible to say how many bodies there were the way the parts had been torn and thrown across the warehouse. One guard was in the center with his legs lying on the opposite side on the room and his intestines slightly unraveled across the floor. 

Spiderman opened his mouth and threw up into his mask.

“Logan, do you have a scent?” Wolverine was half crawling through the bodies sniffing out a scent he could track.

“Looks like Quicksilver.” He could follow the mutant’s path through the slaughter and back out of the building.

“Don’t you mean smells like?” Iron Fist asked smiling. Wolverine promptly growled at him behind Cap’s back.

“What are we going to do about him, Cap?” Iron Man was looking at a severed leg uncomfortably.

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of anything like what he’s been through.” Steve turned his back on the carnage and started walking back toward the Tower completely unsure what to do when he got back.

By the time the Avenger’s got back Hellstrom and Daimon had cleared out leaving a sleeping Loki and Quicksilver in the infirmary. Wanda had returned first. She was sitting next to her twin looking completely lost. She looked up as Hawkeye and Captain America came in the infirmary. 

“How’s he doing?” Hawkeye asked tentatively approaching the bed.

“Sleeping. I heard what he did.”

“Wanda… we can’t condone those actions.”

“What would you have me do?”

“You could at least have this conversation in a different room,” Pietro said groggily. Pushing himself up he glared at the others. 

“We know you’ve been through a lot, but Avenger’s don’t do what you just did. Heroes don’t do that.” Steve said steadily looking at the disheveled mutant.

“I’ve never claimed to be a hero.”

“Pietro, you’re an ass but you’re nothing like those guys.” Hawkeye was always one of the most outspoken Avengers. He had no problem calling things like they were. Something Pietro usually found refreshing, but not tonight.

“You saw a few pieces of my life. That doesn’t make you an expert.”

“They used you, but you never need to be used like that against your will again. You can just let it make you stronger. You know that one saying?”

“Nietzsche? You came in here to misquote Nietzsche at me?”

“Is it working?” he asked hopefully from behind Wanda.

“No. Let me sleep.”

“We’ll talk in the morning.” Steve sounded resigned to the task. Determined to help Pietro even if the speedster fought him the whole way.

“I look forward to it.” They left feeling as though they hadn’t accomplished anything. Wanda had never looked away from Pietro. Now he returned her gaze and nodded with a sigh. She smiled slightly and tentatively lay next to him on the small hospital bed. “You should probably go with them.”

“I want to stay here.”

“Suit yourself.” She curled comfortably next to him and rested her head on his healed shoulder. “What?” He knew her too well not to recognize when she wanted to ask something, but was unsure how he’d take it.

“That was a lot to take in today.” He didn’t answer knowing eventually she’d figure out what was bothering her specifically. “Did you ever see them again?”

“Once.”

“I wish I’d have known about Crystal. And the drugs. I should’ve been paying attention.” She started absently tracing small patterns on his chest while she thought.

“I didn’t want you to know, Wanda. You couldn’t do anything. I don’t want you spending your life trying to help me. You were happy.”

“Sure I’ve made friends, brother, but we’re Maximoffs. All we need is each other. You and me. That’s the way it’s always been.” She was using her stubborn voice. The one where she knew she was wrong but wasn’t about to say otherwise.

“Wanda, it hasn’t been like that for years and you know it.”

“We still have each other though.”

“I’m not enough, dear heart.”

“This isn’t how it was supposed to be.”

“How was it supposed to be?”

“We were supposed to be happy.”

“Metis only looked for my bad memories. I have some good ones in here,” he tapped a finger on his head. “You know you’re supposed to leave the pessimism to me, sister.” She smiled and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

*

A slim figure stood looking at the man fitfully dreaming. Silver hair fell into his eyes, sticking to his pallid forehead as he continued mumbling and fighting the sheets. There was no one staying at his bedside as he struggled. The figure tentatively brushed his hair out of his eyes. He flinched at the innocent touch and sat up alert. The room was empty.

The next morning he was gone. Wounds healed enough and eager to leave the pitying looks behind. He spent the morning raiding dealers until he had several stockpiles of heroin hidden throughout the city. Once he had enough for a few days he made himself comfortable in his apartment and lined up his first fix in years. He’d stopped when Luna was born, but that didn’t matter any more. Plunging the needle into his callused veins and letting the bliss take him. Closing his eyes, he managed to pull the needle out before collapsing onto his bed, smiling for the first time in days.

“Pietro! Wake up!”

“He’s not responding. We need to get him to medical,”

“Pietro!”

“How long do you think he’s been here?”

“Pietro! Come on, wake up!”

**“When you get scared, Wanda, just close your eyes and start to count to ten.”**

**“What happens when I get to ten?”**

**“Nothing. I’ll always get there before you reach it.”**

**“Promise?”**

“Pietro, wake up,”

**“Take care of your sister.” Please. Mother, don’t go. We need you. Please.**

“He’s waking up,”

“Pietro?”

“Where…” The infirmary of the Tower slowly came into focus, as did the concerned faces of Wanda and Steve Rogers.

“You’re back in Stark Tower, brother.”

“I just left Stark Tower.”

“That was nearly a week ago. It seems you’ve been busy,”

“Good to see you awake, Quicksilver. Wanda, I need to go help Tony go over the footage from that robbery. Get better, buddy,” Steve was already retreating. Something big had to be going on for him to clear out the second Pietro woke up.

“Thanks, Steve,”

“What’s going on?”

“New York has finally acquired a thief with half a brain.” Wanda said somewhat dismissively.

“What’d they take?”

“A few hundred thousand dollars, some paintings, and one of Tony’s cars.” She laughed at the last one despite the current situation. 

“Someone stole from Stark?” he said amused.

“Strange isn’t it? There’re plenty of cars in New York. Steve and the others think it was for the prestige. Not many can say they’ve stolen directly from Iron Man. Quick way to build a reputation.” She had latched onto the subject in an attempt to avoid putting off the inevitable conversation.

“Hmm,”

“Pietro…” Wanda began hesitantly having run out of small talk, “why are you throwing your life away. No one thinks less of you for what happened.”

“Wanda, when have I ever worried what they thought of me. I don’t regret doing what I did,”

“Then why are you avoiding us? If we hadn’t found you, you might’ve died.”

“I’m not doing anything new, sister. It’s just now you know what I do when I’m not with the rest of you.” The infirmary door opened and Spiderman walked in with Hawkeye and Wolverine.

“Hey, speedy. You gave us all quite the scare you know that?” Hawkeye approached the bed to stand next to Wanda.

“That much heroin would be a lot for me with my healing factor. You should be dead, kid.” Wolverine looked somewhat impressed with Pietro’s ability to take massive amounts of heroin in such a short time.

“I’m leaving.” Quicksilver said sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Hey, we went through a lot to get you here. Your sister has been going crazy. Not literally. Reality is still in good shape and everything, but seriously don’t be so selfish. This doesn’t just affect you.” Spiderman had stuck himself on one of the walls and was staring down at the others. 

“Selfish?”

“Yeah, you. What happened to you isn’t an excuse.”

“Hmm. Yes I suppose it was selfishness that kept us alive all those years. It was really selfish of me to whore myself out when I was fourteen so we didn’t starve to death. It was definitely selfish selling myself to get us shelter during the winters. Don’t talk about something you know absolutely nothing about.”

“Webs, drop it.” Spiderman had looked ready to continue arguing his point, but Wolverine had cut him off. Pietro glared at all of them and pushed himself to his feet before rushing to the bathroom to promptly be sick. He walked back into the room on shaky legs and lay back down with a groan. The others were silent and looking away somewhat uncomfortably. Looking between them he realized he was only wearing a pair of loose pants leaving the scares across his upper body all too visible.

He hastily pulled the sheets over his chest and looked away from them. This is why his uniform only left his face and neck visible. The next few minutes consisted of an awkward silence until Spiderman broke it to talk about the mysterious thief roaming New York. While Pietro half listened he promised himself the second his stomach stopped rebelling he’d leave. He fell asleep with a glare on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it. Long chapter since I haven’t updated for a bit, but next chapter I’ll bring in my OC and put the team back together at Daimon’s house.


	8. Moving Day

Flash looked at his empty apartment. He’d been able to fit his belongings into two boxes. The rest had gone to good will or was stored at his sister’s place. It was strange to be leaving New York after a lifetime spent in the city limits. Daimon’s place was secluded, surrounded by woods on the shoreline of Fire Lake. Now that the time to leave had come all he could think of was the house from Amityville Horror. This was after all a mansion Satan had built himself. Wondering if this was a huge mistake he set the last box on his lap and wheeled himself out to the waiting cab.

Once the cab pulled away with his wheelchair loaded into the trunk on top of his sparse belongings, he watched his beloved city disappear with a sense of growing trepidation. This was a mistake. He wasn’t questioning it anymore. Calming his breathing he spent the drive completely tense determined to at least give it a few days or until the walls started leaking blood. 

He’d been in the cramped cab for a few hours when a flash of green light filled the backseat. The cabby swore in a harsh Bronx accent and swerved violently. Flash slid across the backseat with a yelp and landed on something warm.

“Agent Venom, you’re squishing me,” came the muffled voice of one god of mischief. 

“Loki?” 

“What the fuck is going on?” The cabby had righted the car to the sound of honks and swearing from the nearby drivers he’d barely avoided hitting. He was looking angrily into the rearview mirror. 

“It’s alright, man. Just a kid I know. Keep driving.” Flash pushed himself back to his side of the cab and looked at the disheveled god grinning back at him. “Loki what’re you doing here?”

“Isn’t Loki Thor’s brother that’s always trying to kill the Avengers?” The cabby had actually turned in his seat to inspect his newest passenger.

“Oh no. I’m a different Loki and I’m not a licensed driver, but shouldn’t you be watching the road?”

“How do I know you’re not just disguising yourself?” The cabby had narrowed his eyes suspiciously. 

“I’ll give you gold for your troubles?” he tried hopefully.

“Fire Lake it is.” The cabby eagerly turned back to the road just in time to avoid hitting the car in the next lane.

“I thought you could use a moving buddy.” Loki said happily turning to Flash who was still staring at him unsure if he was actually seeing this.

“Moving part’s all done.”

“Oh in that case I’ll help you unpack.”

“You just want to see Daimon’s house don’t you?” Flash said catching on to Loki’s sudden appearance. 

“I almost forgot where it was you where moving,” he said unconvincingly.

“I’ll order us a pizza. That’s moving a tradition and I didn’t think Daimon was planning on honoring it.” Flash was somewhat grateful for the timely distraction. Daimon was a little nicer with Loki around and he was glad he didn’t have to do this part alone.

Daimon walked through the dusty hallways of his childhood home. Sheets were covering the furniture giving further signs of his prolonged absence. The sunlight didn’t seem to fully penetrate the windows doing nothing to clear the gloom of the house. He started pulling off the sheets and clearing off the layer of dust that had accumulated over the years. 

Pacing through the old house he began opening windows to air the place out. The last few months had been exhausting. His Dark Soul grew stronger in hell, but it was very taxing on his human soul. Over the years his human soul had faded more and more. His father had ensured he’d never have any peace while he refused to give up his human soul. The constant battle in his heart had taken its toll on him and he felt a deep tiredness that no amount of sleep would cure. 

He found himself standing in his mother’s old room. She had gone insane and slit her wrists when she saw his father’s true form. Realizing what she’d released into the world she’d gone mad and convinced herself that it was all against her will. Daimon had watched her kill herself in this room when he was a child. His father had stood next to him while she died and made Daimon and his sister drink from her cooling corpse. Feeling sick at the memory he walked out of the room and locked the door securely behind him.

Pietro woke up in the infirmary alone and sat up cautiously. When he didn’t get sick he placed his feet on the ground. “I wouldn’t get up just yet.” A calm female voice said from behind him. Turning he saw a beautiful woman watching him from the other side of the room. Her uniform consisted of black tights that made her long legs look even more slender and a black sleeveless top that showed of a generous chest and toned arms.

“Who’re you?”

“Nomad is the name I usually go by. We have a mutual friend and I was planning on coming to the tower anyway for another of Stark’s cars.” Pietro almost smiled and resisted the urge to congratulate her on pissing off Stark.

“Where’s all the stuff you stole?”

“I put the paintings up in some random office buildings, Stark’s car is in a shipping container on it’s way to god knows where, and the money will drop with the confetti the next time the Mets win big a game. That one could take a while.” She waved a black-gloved hand vaguely and began walking around the room looking at the monitors and medical equipment curiously.

“Oh…” He hadn’t been expecting that answer in the least or her casual demeanor.

“Why aren’t you out saving the world with your friends?” She asked looking around the empty room.

“They’re not… I’m done doing that for a while,” Pietro suddenly felt very tired. The thought of going out and saving the world only to have to save it again a month later in an endless cycle sounded absolutely exhausting right now. He wasn’t thinking past his next hit and killing Erebus at the moment.

“Hmm. You aren’t like them.” She was nodding sagely and pulling on a lab coat.

“So?”

“They only see the world one way. Villains too. You and me we see the truth.” A hair net and a surgical mask followed the lab coat giving her a look like a mad scientist.

“I don’t think I see anything,” he was watching her closely now trying to figure out where she was going with this.

“You will. You just need to open your eyes a bit. Stop seeing things the way they taught you,” she made goggles with her fingers and used them to look at him.

“You’re a little crazy aren’t you?”

“Who says that’s a bad thing?” she said absently blowing up a pair of plastic gloves.

“Society?”

“I didn’t take you for someone who cared what society thought?” Snapping the gloves loudly in her hands she stretched blew them up again and tied them off.

“I’m not.”

“Then don’t let it make you think less of me. The mob is wired to fear what’s different. It’s the outcasts that know what society really is. You need to see things from outside rather than in with all the blinders and distortions, wrong turns, and dead ends.” Drawing a face on one of the gloves she placed the other glove on his lap along with a sharpie.

“Do you have some information for me?” He was getting impatient now as he cast the balloon onto the sterile white floor.

“I’m going to break into a few of the places that hired Erebus and see what they know. I’ll let you know if I find anything.” Pietro nodded and stood up slowly.

“I’m leaving now,” she pulled the mask down so it rested around her neck and smiled happily.

“Okay.”

“That’s it?”

“Did you have more to say?” Now she was making him feel like the crazy person.

“I figured you’d want something in return. What’re you getting out of this?”

“I’m just passing the time.” With that she disappeared through the door to steal more of Stark’s personal belongings. Pietro stared dumbly after her processing the strange conversation. Shaking his head he ran out to check his stashes hidden throughout the city.

*

Daimon was stocking the fridge when he heard the door open. Walking to the entryway he stopped when he realized who it was. “I didn’t expect you to show up.”

“Need to store some stuff here.” He held up a duffel bag as proof. 

“Fine, but if your shit blows up my house I promise you a very dark eternity in my realm.” Frank didn’t seem phased as he followed Daimon through the mansion into the basement. 

“What’s this?” Castle stopped and looked at the metal door that Daimon had welded shut a few years ago.

“Portal to Hell my father used to use. It’s sealed. Nothing can get through it.” Daimon continued to walk without checking to see if Frank was following him. Opening the door to the empty cellar he stood back to let the Punisher in. Stepping in to inspect the room he nodded and offered Daimon a stack of bills. Tracing his fingers over the drops of blood on the top bill he smiled at the death connected with the money. Setting the bag in a corner Frank moved back to his van to get more of his weapons. 

Stashing the money behind one of the loose bricks in the basement Daimon walked upstairs and outside to the sound of a horn honking. Frank was nowhere to be seen as the yellow cab pulled up the gravel drive. Loki jumped out and waved enthusiastically as he pulled a wheel chair from the trunk. Flash nodded grimly as he lifted himself into the chair and the cabby set one of his boxes on his lap. The cabby was talking to Loki eagerly. Daimon saw what looked like gold pass between the two while Flash wheeled himself toward him.

“This place is huge. I need a room on the ground floor though if it’s all the same to you. Would you mind getting the last box?” Sighing Daimon walked to the cab and pulled out the box ignoring the godling bouncing around him talking eagerly. Once the cab disappeared down the drive Castle reappeared and recruited Loki to help him carry a box filled with grenades and straw.

“I got the basic food necessities. Kitchen is that way. This room is yours. You’ve got your own bathroom, so you shouldn’t need to leave your room very often.” Flash was staring at the large room appreciatively. Rolling toward the large four-poster bed he set his box down. Daimon set the box in his arms on a dresser and stood awkwardly not sure what to do now.

“Did I hear Frank out there?” Flash asked uncomfortably.

“He’s using the cellar for storage.”

“You wouldn’t happen to have a shooting range here would you?”

“It wouldn’t be too difficult to add, but it would require the use of stairs.”

“I told Loki we’d order pizza. He just appeared in the cab on the way over here. The cabby nearly crashed.” Daimon felt something like fondness for the outcast god and he almost smiled at the image.

“His magic is returning to him,” he remarked absently listening to Loki’s stream of questions as he followed Castle through the house. He liked this idea more and more. “We should probably separate those two. We don’t need Loki learning how to wire his own explosives.”

Daimon and Flash had just reached the kitchen when the door slammed open and Pietro Maximoff appeared in a rush of wind. “Which room’s mine?” He had a bag in his arms and was clearly in a hurry. 

“Top floor rooms are all empty. Your pick.” Quicksilver nodded and disappeared upstairs returning a second later in a blur yelling a quick thankyou and running back out making all of the curtains snap loudly. Daimon and Flash continued on their way without comment.

Pietro picked a room and left his backup stash before running back to New York as fast as he could. It only took him a few minutes to reach his small apartment where he’d put his main stash. Entering the bedroom he simply pulled the top of his uniform down to hang around his waist and immediately began preparing a needle. When he went too long without a fix his body started to ache and sweat. The pain in his legs right now had risen to an unbearable level and his hands were shaking as he tied himself off. Heroin always got rid of the various aches in his body and helped him relax, but it was like taking out a lone. Every pain free minute had to be repaid with interest. Every moment of peace came with days of wanting only to die. 

When the drugs began to wear off he’d take another hit keeping him in a constant state of numbness. It was early in the morning when he finally dosed off. 

Wanda had spent most of the day looking for her brother after he’d disappeared from the infirmary. She’d started at his place, but found it empty. Out of places to look she returned to the apartment and found him passed out in the bathroom covered in sick. Cursing she teleported them back to the infirmary nearly making Stark blast them as he worked to reinforce the Tower’s security again. 

Stark immediately closed in and soon Beast had joined him in stabilizing Pietro. “He can’t go on like this. This shit is going to kill him,” Stark said frowning at his chart. Wanda was at a loss. She didn’t know what to do. With a sigh she sat down dejectedly to wait for him to wake up.


	9. They Need You

Pietro’s eyes opened with a snap that he immediately regretted. “Close the fucking blinds,” he tried to sit up but found himself restrained to the hospital bed. Testing the bonds he estimated about fifteen minutes before he could vibrate through the dense metal. Evidently his intervention party had come prepared. 

“Glad to see you awake.” Captain America said from his right. Looking around he saw his sister, Hawkeye, Iron Man, Hank Pym, Beast, and Storm. 

“Visitors. How charming,” he grumbled squinting in the afternoon sunlight filling the room. 

“Pietro, we need to talk to you after everything that’s happened,” Captain America said in his most authoritative voice. 

“Talk then. I have things to be doing.” He started working his way out of the restraints. It didn’t take long to realize his initial estimate was off. His body was still too weak to work at maximum efficiency. 

“We’ve noticed the kind of things you’ve been doing, Pietro,” Hawkeye mumbled loudly enough for everyone to hear. 

“You’ll be feeling some of the withdrawals in a few hours. Probably sooner the way your body works. Before the cravings hit you need to seriously think about what you’re doing to yourself,” Hank Pym had stepped forward now looking very uncomfortable with the whole situation. 

“Your concern is touching, but I know what I’m doing.”

“Pietro… the things that happened to you… We won’t insult you by saying we understand what you’ve been through, but you need help. You need to talk about what happened,” Beast was shifting his weight awkwardly at the food of the bed. Pietro glared at his sister briefly before looking around the room. 

“You want me to talk about it? What do you want me to say?”

“Speedy…” Stark began to speak and for one of the first times since Pietro had met him, he seemed to be struggling to find words.

“Would you like me to fill in the blanks for you? I spent months being used before I got out. The only reason I continued was to ensure my sister never had to endure anything of the sort. I learned a lot in those months. After that if I couldn’t steal enough or work for shelter I’d sell the only I had left. Freaks make good money working on the streets you know. People like to flavor something… exotic. No one was going to come in and save us. It was up to me and I did what I had to.”

“A child should never have had to take on responsibility like that, Pietro. You two aren’t alone anymore. We’re your family,” Storm was speaking slowly evidently choosing her words with care. She placed a reassuring hand on Wanda’s shoulder. 

“A nice sentiment, but I’m a little past saving these days. Besides aren’t you the family that was going to kill my sister?” He directed his question to the room at large glaring at each of them in turn.

“Pietro, I do not blame them for their decision. I told you then I wasn’t going to fight them.”

“Right. After everything we’ve been through you were just going to die. After everything I’ve been through to keep you alive you were just going to give up!” 

“Pietro-”

“No, you wantedtotalksolet’stalk!”

“Pietro, you need to slow down. We can’t-” Steve shook his head, but at his words Pietro lost his already spent patience.

“Right slow down and try to be like everyone else, but you’realldelusional! We’llneverbenormal! There will always be something wrong with us, something making us notgoodenough!” He was fighting to yell slowly enough for them to understand, but occasionally he’d speed halfway through his sentences.

“Pietro, that doesn’t mean you can’t be happy. You can have-”

“Did you just come in here to spout meaningless platitudes, Captain? I don’t want to hear it.”

“Brother, please.” He hated it when Wanda pleaded with him. When she tried to make him behave like a good boy. 

“What do you want from me, Wanda? I have nothing left to give you.”

“I need you, Pietro,” she said it quietly as though they were the only ones in the room. He glared as tears began falling freely down her pale cheeks. 

“You haven’t needed me for a long time now, sister.” The room stayed silent after that particular declaration. Pietro had nothing left to say to these people. He was beyond words. While they struggled to find the right words he returned his attention to his bonds. The withdrawals were starting to kick in and he really wanted to get out of here while they were still manageable. Vibrating against the bonds was becoming uncomfortable bordering on painful as his body became more sensitive to pain. 

Glancing up he saw Wanda shaking fresh tears while she watched him struggle. Sighing he stopped moving for a moment looking around at the failed intervention. “It wasn’t all bad, Wanda. I don’t regret what’s happened.”

“You can’t say you’ve accepted what those sick fucks did to you,” Stark had finally found his voice. 

“I made my peace with that,” he was started to feel defensive. He didn’t like being tied up like this when all his instincts were telling him to run. 

“How could you possibly move past that…?” Stark’s face looked completely incredulous as he stared at Pietro. 

Looking around the room he said as clearly and apathetically as he could, “I found each of them and slit their throats.” It would be better if they hated him. Make this easier for them to accept. 

“Fuck…” Hawkeye was shaking his head, “I don’t think this is how interventions are supposed to go.” He could feel the aches starting in his back and legs. They were barely there, but he knew they’d slowly build to unbearable levels over the next several hours until they peaked in the next few days. He could feel the muscles in his legs twitching with restless energy and the cool sweat rolling between his shoulder blades. He needed to get out of here. 

“Let me up,” he started visibly vibrating against the bonds desperate to escape their prying eyes. 

“We aren’t done yet, Pietro. You have an addiction.”

“I’ve never been in denial of that fact, Captain. I don’t plan on starting now. Maybe I could stop, but the thing is I don’t want to and I know that.”

“What about your daughter? What about Luna?”

“My daughter is no longer speaking to me. She had been living without me for most of her life.” The withdrawals were starting a little early this time, which wasn’t helping his increasing anxiety.

“She still loves you, Pietro.”

“And I love her, but that isn’t the point is it? Love isn’t all we need. She needs someone who has compassion and empathy. I’m incapable of the kind of emotion she needs.”

“I never thought I’d see the day you gave up, Quicksilver.”

“Oh I stopped fighting a long time ago. The only difference is now I have an audience.” With one final twitch he broke free of the restraints. Sitting up he massaged his soar wrists. Stretching he swung his legs to the edge of the bed hesitantly testing them on the cold tile floor. No one made a move to stop him, but he could see they were all ready to keep arguing all day. Thinking of continuing this conversation made Pietro feel bone tired. “I’m not doing this for attention. This isn’t my cry for help. You’re about twenty years too late for that. You need to let me go.” He directed his last line to Wanda.

She rushed forward and threw her arms around his neck pulling him into a tight hug. “Dear heart, please don’t give up. Don’t do this.”

“Wanda, I love you, but I can’t,” he carefully pulled himself out of her arms to look her in the eye. “I need to find my own way now.”

“Just… remember I’m here for you.”

“As I am here for you, Wanda.” He kissed her on the brow and sped out of the room without looking back at the disapproving expressions of the Avengers. 

He ran through New York barely paying attention. Avoiding a large ship in the bay he started moving toward his last stash he had left. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to take a room at Hellstrom’s, but he was glad he had an excuse to go back there. Running at a leisurely pace he found himself standing before the mansion in a matter of minutes. 

Following the sound of gunshots he came upon Frank Castle shooting at an improvised long range shooting range. He was lying on his stomach shooting into a hill a little less than a mile distant. Loki was sitting next to him with a spotting scope trained on the target. “A little up and to the left.” Castle nodded and fired again. Pulling back the bolt to load the next round he briefly glanced back at Pietro giving him a slight nod. 

“Quicksilver! Frank is teaching me the secrets of Midgardian warriors. I get to shoot next.”

“I never said you could shoot,” Castle deadpanned. 

“What’s the problem? I’m completely bulletproof.”

“Where are the others?” Pietro demanded ignoring their banter. 

“Agent Venom is doing some super-heroing in the city of Brotherly Love and Daimon seems to have disappeared momentarily. Did you bring us anything from New York?”

“No I’ll bring you something next time,” he couldn’t help promising to get Loki a treat. The god’s eyes had lit up at the prospect of a gift. 

“Kid, go set up these new targets.” Frank roughly handed Loki a stack of paper targets with a vaguely human shape on them. Taking the posters with a grin Loki vanished in a flash of green light. Pietro could dimly make out the flash of his arrival down range. 

“Your friend got in contact. She’s looking into it.” Castle had rolled back into a squat as he watched Loki running around the hill setting up fresh targets enthusiastically. 

“What do you plan on doing if she finds him?” He asked the question without looking away from the godling. 

“Killing Erebus.” Even saying it he could hear how bored he sounded at the idea. He didn’t really want to kill Erebus out of anything personal, but he was feeling particularly destructive after the last few days. Erebus was just a convenient outlet for his frustration. Now that everyone knew he had no qualms about killing it seemed much less important to curb that particular impulse. 

“Then what?” Castle’s blue eyes finally looked up as Pietro thought over his next move. He simply shrugged and looked away. “The drugs will only help for so long.”

“I know.”

“Killing won’t help you either.”

“Does it help you?”

“It’s not about me anymore. I’m just making sure no one else becomes like me.” They both looked back at the distant shape of Loki outlined in the setting sun. 

“You think I should go help orphans in Eastern Europe?”

“They could use you.” Pietro remained silent as Loki reappeared with the used targets in a fresh wave of magic. 

Daimon was in his study checking over a ritual that would reveal any demon activity in the vicinity. He used to spend all his time performing exorcisms to keep his father’s forces at bay, but he’d been doing it less and less over the years. It had begun as a way to spite his father. Now he was just looking for something to keep himself busy. 

Another gunshot rang outside as he read over his old notes. There was no one for miles out here and he’d been grateful to give Castle an excuse to keep Loki busy. He didn’t think the kid needed to learn too much about demonology yet. When he heard the front door open and close he looked up. A spilt second later his door opened to reveal a disheveled looking Pietro Maximoff. 

“You look like hell.” Maximoff had deep shadows under his eyes and his skin looked more pale that usual. His silver hair was sticking to his palid forehead that was covered in sweat. 

“So do you,” the speedster snapped without taking a breath. Without another word he shut the door and disappeared down the hallway. Daimon smirked at the slight and went back to his spell work. He could feel the turmoil and pain coming off the mutant in waves. There was no doubt in his mind that Pietro was filling his veins with poison at the moment. It really wasn’t any of Daimon’s business if Pietro wanted to kill himself, but he still thought it was a waste. He didn’t mind the arrogant man. He wouldn’t be opposed to fucking him if he got the chance, but from what he knew it wasn’t a good idea. 

Pietro sat down on the dusty bed at the drugs took effect. Taking a deep breath he leaned back on the mattress and briefly closed his eyes. He could hear Hellstrom banging around so he slowly stood and walked back to the study. 

Hellstrom was bent over a map of North America that had a few small pinpricks of light. Coming to stand next to him he raised a brow in question. “Demon tracking.”

“Sounds like a terrible hobby.”

“Actually it kind of is, but there’s not much else to do at the moment.” Pietro looked at him for a moment considering his options. He was never really in a mood for sex, but it was the only way he knew how to be physically close to someone. Quicksilver does not just hug people. Letting Hellstrom fuck him would also be a chance to test his control over himself. Those men didn’t control him anymore. 

Taking a step closer to Hellstrom he hesitantly trailed one of his hands down a muscled arm. He could feel Daimon tense as he slid from his hand to his stomach and down to one of his belt loops. Pulling Daimon to face him he was sure to give him plenty of time to back out. Red eyes watched him coldly as he slowly leaned forward and softly pressed his lips to Daimon’s neck. 

The half-demon’s skin felt unnaturally warm beneath his lips. Daimon gently placed a hand on Pietro’s hip to pull him a little closer. His other hand came to rest on Pietro’s shoulder and slowly started rubbing circles in his back. Sighing Pietro rested his head on Daimon’s shoulder and closed his eyes mentally preparing himself for what was to come. 

What he didn’t expect was the hand on his hip circling his waist and pulling him into a warm embrace. Momentarily confused Pietro tensed. The hand rubbing his back ran up to his neck gently guiding his head back to Daimon’s shoulder. Once he buried his face into Daimon’s neck he slowly let his hands that were braced between them relax and circle around Daimon’s naked torso. 

He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that in the center of the dark study. After a while Daimon guided him through the house toward what must be the master bedroom. Without letting go of him Daimon shut and locked the door before leading him to the large bed. Pietro felt exhausted as Daimon forced him to sit on the edge of the bed. Bending down Daimon’s brow furrowed as he focused on removing Pietro’s boots. “How do you want to this?”

Neatly placing the boots beside the bed Daimon looked up at him and raised a brow. “You’re going to fuck me now aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t planning on it no.”

“I didn’t think the Son of Satan capable of pity.”

“This isn’t pity. I just want someone to share this bed with me. Besides I’m not going to fuck you unless you truly want it.” Pietro glared at him and pulled his uniform off, tearing it in his haste. In a few seconds he stood before Daimon completely naked. Stepping forward he started pulling impatiently at Daimon’s belt and forced the leather pants down to gather around his ankles. He wasn’t the least bit surprised to see Daimon’s cock half hard already. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t mind fucking you, but not like this Pietro,” he was pulled back in and Daimon purposely planted a kiss below his ear. Pushing him until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed forcing him to sit. Daimon sat down on the bed next to him to unlace his boots. Kicking off his remaining clothes he stood up and rummaged through the chest of drawers. 

Pietro caught the loose pajama pants that were thrown his way and was once again surprised as Daimon pulled similar pants on. Turning Daimon looked at his amused expression and cocked his head. Uncertainly pulling the pants on he stood beside the bed no longer sure what was happening. Stepping forward Daimon walked around to the other side of the bed and pulled back the black comforter and the red sheets. Climbing into the bed he made a gesture with his hand and the lights went out. 

Eyes adjusting Pietro watched Daimon’s form settle for a moment before pulling back the covers on his side. Once he was in the bed Daimon slide closer to him and pulled him against his chest. Resting his head on Daimon’s chest he tensed slightly when he felt a hand trailing along his ruined back. Another hand began running through his hair massaging his scalp. Closing his eyes he traced his fingers over the raised mark on Daimon’s chest. 

He wanted to ask why Daimon was doing this, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment. It was the last place he’d expected to find comfort. Breathing deeply he settled into the warm embrace repeating his mantra silently to himself. It’ll be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was not expecting that pairing at all, but it felt natural as I started going on this chapter. I left it open ended in case it ends up being just a really close friendship, but let me know what you think!


	10. Hellcat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been over a year since my last update, but I promise I still plan to finish this. It's just going to move at a snail's pace. Maybe slower. What's slower than a snail? To everyone who commented or messaged that I didn't respond to your support really means a lot. This has just been an intense year of personal growth, and my fanfics have unfortunately suffered from it. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter :)

Venom leapt from the shadows following the sounds of violence. Dropping with deadly grace in front of a convenience store he pushed the door open with a faint chime. At the acidic scent of panic the symbiote began to crawl with excitement sending out small tendrils and revealing the barest hint of jagged teeth. 

The moment he entered the man holding the gun to the cashier turned to face him. He managed to gasp before Flash snatched him in a black web and pulled him to meet his fist. After fighting powered crooks this was a little anticlimactic, but he gave a reassuring nod to the few customers and wracked his brain for something to say. Spiderman always led with a joke but even if he could think of one he knew his appearance couldn’t get the same reception. The quips weren’t his style anyway, so he flashed a smile that was all fang before slipping back out into the night. He heard a display fall but he didn’t see the blonde beauty faint. 

Venom climbed up an anonymous Philadelphia rooftop a few blocks away. Deciding to call it for the night he began making his way to the small portal that would take him back to Daimon’s. Using some combination of cult-voodoo-magic the portal would only recognize Flash or other Casa de Diablo residents. 

He did a few circles to be sure he wasn’t being followed before dropping down onto the designated sewer entrance. Quickly lifting the lid he started down the maintenance ladder and was met with tingling in the alien toes that slowly began to rise up his body. The symbiote didn’t like the nature of Daimon’s demonic magic and began making its discomfort known. Once the magic finally took hold his vision was briefly filled with fire before clearing to reveal the basement of Daimon’s mansion.

Letting out a puff of air he allowed the symbiote to melt back to reveal Flash Thompson. The only things out of place were the whole legs he stood on. He’d spent years in a chair, but from the first time he accepted Venom he’d almost been able to forget.

“Agent Venom!”

“Hey, Loki. What’re you two doing?”

“He is teaching me how to hack into the stolen computers of his victims. I’ve already found someone named Igor. Terrible name isn’t it?” Loki was sitting on an ornate altar next to the Punisher who had a stack of laptops he was decrypting. For some strange reason the godling had latched onto the ex-Marine in the last few weeks. Flash was surprised Frank hadn’t told him to get lost but rather let Loki follow him with a stream of questions even on occasion giving a concise answer. 

“You think that’s a good idea, Frank?” Flash looked at the laptop Castle was currently bent over. A bloody handprint was smeared across the front of it. The symbiote could smell more blood and he felt it purr through their connection.

“Kid’s a genius. He doesn’t need me for this,” Frank’s voice was as apathetic as ever, but Flash could detect what might’ve been a little pride. 

“When will you teach me to make my own explosives?” Loki was quickly hacking away at his own bloodstained laptop. 

“No explosives.”

“Agent, will you teach me how to blow various objects into oblivion?” The small god looked at Flash with a mischievous gleam in his green eyes. 

“Call me Flash when we’re here and I’m not really an explosives guy.”

“Flash is an unusual name is it not?”

“It’s a nickname. No one uses my real name.” Flash pulled up one of the chairs and sat down watching the Punisher and the God of Evil type away together. 

“Castle do you have any nicknames?”

“Frank Castle is a nickname.” Frank didn’t seem to have anything else to say on the matter, but he wasn’t verbose at the best of times. 

“How did you get yours, Flash?” Loki asked eagerly. He continually got the impression that Loki didn’t get to talk freely with many people. At the mansion Loki seemed to be making up for the isolation he surely felt from his own people. 

“Used to be into a lot of sports. I was just always fast. Not Quicksilver’s version of fast, but normal human fast.”

“He’s here again somewhere with Hellstrom.”

“To each there own I guess.” Flash was a still little surprised Pietro had taken up residence with them at all. Hawkeye had told him about him when he was on the Secret Avengers. From what he’d heard Quicksilver wasn’t the type to stay in one place for long. He’d gathered this was part of the mutant’s personality, but from what he’d seen he doubted many people were ever happy to see him. Over the last week he’d randomly appear, sometimes high out of his mind, then disappear into the upstairs room he’d claimed. In the morning he’d run off again, but it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that he usually left from Daimon’s room. 

“Oh look an itinerary. I didn’t think bad guys kept such detailed notes.” Loki turned the laptop to Frank. 

“You’d be surprised.” Frank began studying the laptop with no visible signs of excitement at having his target. Flash had heard multiple heroes describe the Punisher as a crazed fanatic, but he had never seen Frank show any real enthusiasm in his war. He just seemed like an empty man carrying out an old assignment. 

“Loki, does anyone know you’re here? Your people have to be wondering where you are.” He was sure he’d already asked him this, but he still felt worried about bringing down the literal wrath of a god. 

“Oh well due to a rather complicated series of events some false rumors may have spread around Asgardia rendering me slightly less tolerated than an invasion from Musphelheim. It doesn’t help that some of the rumors aren’t unsubstantiated… I think the real issue is a lack of understanding. The realms are fairly quick to point fingers in my direction,” he shrugged his small shoulders and smiled tiredly. “Thor is the only one currently defending my name, but he is a busy god. It’s safer for me to stay out of sight until things calm down.”

“What exactly did you do?”

“Well I did release the fire demon Surtur, but it was for good reason. Unfortunately he nearly destroyed Asgardia. Some of the Aesir took it personally. I stopped him though! No one seems to gossip about that part.”

“Oh. So did you get kicked out?” 

“No I’ve just found now is a good time to make myself scarce so I don’t cause anymore damage.” Suddenly a phone began to vibrate, but before Flash knew where it was coming from Castle had already answered one of his many burners and began listening to the voice on the other end. 

“Probably a good idea,” Flash thought about the events since he’d accepted the symbiote. His brother-in-law was dead, his mom had a mental breakdown, Betty broke up with him, and he’d killed Betty’s brother. Moving to Philly had been his attempt at a fresh start while giving the people he’d hurt time to heal. He realized he wasn’t the only one looking for a new start.

*

Pietro stirred slightly pulling the blankets tighter around his body. Shifting his hips he felt familiar warmth pressed against his back. A muscular arm was draped lazily over his side. 

Remembering the previous weeks Pietro relaxed and sank closer to Daimon. He could feel Daimon’s erection pressing into him, but he’d learn to trust the other man wouldn’t take him unless he wanted it for himself. Sleeping with someone without sex was still new to him and he’d found himself grateful to Daimon for it. Opening his eyes slowly he looked blearily around the moonlit room.

His stomach clenched suddenly and he flew from the bed with a burst of speed. Rushing to the toilet he threw the lid back and violently emptied his stomach. He knelt coughing and choking on the burning in his throat until his eyes began to water. 

Once he was sure he was done being sick he cautiously lowered himself to the cold stone and curled up tightly. He could hear footsteps rattling across the floor, but he kept his eyes tightly closed. The footsteps stopped next to him and a warm hand pushed his hair off his damp forehead. He could hear Daimon moving around the bathroom for a moment before a cold washcloth began smoothly wiping off his face. 

“I don’t need your help,” he’d been saying this to Daimon nearly every night for the last few weeks, but it didn’t seem to offend him in the least. Tonight there was hardly any fight left in the words. 

“Don’t mistake me for someone who gives out sympathy. You’re just too pathetic like this. My Dark Soul doesn’t even enjoy your suffering.” Daimon generally ignored him, but sometimes he graced him with a lazy response that was tactless. Oddly enough it was another thing he was grateful for.

“Fuck off, Hellstrom,” he groaned back with a small half smile.

Daimon smirked and stood to fill a cup with water. Bending back down he held it to Pietro’s lips so he could get rid of the bitter taste in his mouth.

Pietro sat up and leaned weakly against the large bathtub. This had become their ritual over the weeks. Pietro would slip into Daimon’s bed, usually high, and at some point in the night he’d run from bed sick. The half demon would rub his back and help him back to bed when he was done. 

“Come on,” Daimon said smoothly ignoring Pietro’s thoughtful look. He placed his warm arms around the pale body on the floor and helped pull him to his feet. Leaning heavily on him Pietro limped back to the large bed fighting to ignore the aches in his legs and lower back. The withdrawals were starting to hit him sooner with greater intensity, but he had no intention of stopping. Collapsing onto the crumpled sheets he closed his eyes listening to Daimon flushing away his sick and turning off lights. 

He avoided moving closer to Daimon when he climbed back into the bed. While he wouldn’t have minded the contact he was already uncomfortably hot without the added heat of another body. Daimon simply ran his hand down Pietro’s arm in something akin to reassurance before retreating to his side of the bed. He listened to Daimon’s breathing as it slowly evened out. 

Lying perfectly still he knew he wasn’t going to sleep anymore tonight. Inching to the edge of the bed he stood and waited for the dizziness to pass. The shape of Daimon sleeping soundly slowly came into focus. He silently slipped out of the room, careful not to disturb the other man.

Standing on the dark landing he listened to the house. It had to be close to two in the morning. He could hear the sound of voices downstairs, so he purposely took the stairs toward the higher floors. Wandering somewhat aimlessly through huge rooms he came across one that seemed unlike the rest of the house. All the others were cold and dark. There was nothing personal that would suggest they belonged to anyone. This room had the opposite feel, but it had clearly seen some violence. 

There were large windows letting in the moonlight illuminating light blue walls covered in long scorch marks and brightly covered furniture stained with ash. Moving into the room disturbed a thin layer of dust and silence. The air seemed to demand he remain quiet. Walking toward the dresser he noticed all the frames were smashed and broken except for one of a smiling woman he vaguely recognized. He picked glass off an old photo of Daimon smiling with an arm around the same woman. Confused he looked at the other pictures and found an older photo of the Defenders. He quickly located Daimon next to a woman in a yellow cat suit with her hair falling freely. Everyone in the picture was smiling except for Daimon. He made the distant connection that this must be Hellcat. He’d heard of the brief marriage, but no one really knew why it’d ended. 

Pietro smiled slightly at the ornery looking Daimon then glanced back at the pictures with him smiling. His own grin faded when he noticed something was missing. Staring at the picture of the couple in front of a building with the words Hellstrom and Hellstrom painted on the window he looked at the section of chest visible through Daimon’s loosely buttoned shirt. There was no pentagram. Frowning he looked at another one of them in front of a house with a just sold sign on the lawn. No birthmark. 

“That’s Patsy Walker the first year we were married.” Pietro jumped and turned around in a blur making it halfway across the room before he relaxed. The man himself stood in the doorway watching him. 

“This was her room?” He asked unnecessarily. Daimon didn’t bother answering as he walked into the room and picked up the only unbroken picture. “What happened?” He sped back to the dresser looking at the picture he held of Patsy Walker smiling brilliantly in her wedding dress. When Daimon didn’t say anything he smirked and murmured, “I showed you why my marriage fell apart. Only fair you show me yours now.”

He heard Daimon huff lightly, but he made no indication that he’d answer, Pietro fired off another question. “Where’s your mark in the pictures with her?”

“Ah, you noticed that,” he spoke softly while he continued to stare at the photograph.

“I’m not a fool.” Daimon sighed and put down the photo before finally turning to face him. Anyone else would’ve missed the way Daimon’s burning eyes briefly extinguished to reveal the deeply tired spirit before that vulnerability was smothered again. Pietro, however, saw everything.

“You know I’m not human right?”

“Neither am I, technically speaking.”

“We’re talking about two very different things. When my father impregnated my mother it was more than the physical act of creating a body. He was passing on a part of his essence. I was born mostly human. Human soul and all that, but I also have a Dark Soul. The birthmark is one of its physical manifestations. At first they were kept separate. Dark Soul at night, human by day. That changed a long time ago though. Now they fight for space, but the Dark Soul is a cancer slowly eating my human soul. Patsy would never allow herself to accept my complete nature.” He said the last part with a barely detectable undertone of regret. He didn’t seem bitter over her lack of acceptance. 

“So the pictures with no birthmark. You only had a human soul then?”

“Yes.” He didn’t look like he was going to elaborate, but when Pietro continued to look at him with a raised eyebrow he sighed. “At first everything was fine. I retained my powers. Patsy and I married. We started making plans for our future together.”

“Then?”

“I started to die. Without my Dark Soul I was less than half of myself. My human soul had been so eaten away it couldn’t sustain life anymore. I accepted it. She didn’t.” Pietro didn’t say anything as he watched Daimon cast a final look at the picture before turning his back on the room. He stopped at the door and jerked his head indicating Pietro should follow him out.

They didn’t speak as they climbed back into bed. When Pietro finally settled on his back Daimon pulled their bodies together so he could wrap an arm around Pietro’s waist and rest his head over his heart. 

Pietro carded his fingers through Daimon’s hair while he gathered the nerve to ask how he’d restored himself. He could almost feel the demon thinking before he answered bitterly, “Patsy decided to call my father.”


	11. Spitting Acid From Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello to everyone that's still hanging around for this fic! I know it's been ages since I updated, so I hope everyone enjoys this very late chapter.

A dented white van sat parked on a deserted corner of New York. Inside the Punisher gathered his tool kit a short block from his current prey. Using the Intel Loki had found during his routine research he'd been able to identify and track his new target to a safe house in Hell's Kitchen. The Russian was sent out whenever the mafia had a particularly dirty kill. He'd been known to kill children without a problem, but had somehow avoided getting on Frank's radar. Until tonight.

The mafia had recently broken him out of a Siberian gulag and set him up comfortably in this safe house. It was unusual for them to make such an effort, but the man's mutation had made him a difficult tool to replace.

A flash of green light illuminated the inside of the van. On instinct his side arm was immediately trained on the intruder. The dark barrel of his .45 was held steady in the surprised face of the god of Mischief. "I told you, kid. You can't come with me."

"I learned more about this Igor I thought you might want to hear. He has a low level mutation."

"The spitting acid? That isn't new information, Loki." He holstered his gun once more and went back to strapping his sawed-off shotgun to his back.

"I was thinking though. What if his blood is acidic like the things in Alien? You shoot him and it gets on you maybe it burns right through you. He could have other undocumented mutations." He almost smiled watching Loki waving his hands around in exaggerated gestures of blood spattering and gunshot wounds.

"I'll take my chances. If anyone else tries to get in the van teleport out of here, but otherwise stay put." He didn't wait for his reply as he exited the van for the frozen night air.

Keeping an eye out to make sure he wasn't seen he snuck around the block checking the security before walking up to the door he knew would lead to his target. The mutation was a variable that he'd prefer killing at a distance, but the safe house was in a basement that didn't leave any windows for his rifle. Kicking open the door he raised his gun and charged in shooting down two guards before quickly going down a flight of stairs taking down anyone that pointed a gun his way. The only benefit of this particular basement was the single exit. Igor couldn't run without going through him.

Reaching the final door he stormed in, but the only people in the room were what looked like a few prostitutes cowering in the corner. He held a finger to his lips and they immediately silenced. A creak behind him alerted him to someone else's presence.

"Drop gun. Hands on head." Raising his hands he slowly turned to see his mark aiming a gun at him. "You?" Before Igor could recover from the shock of seeing the Punisher, Frank charged him knocking his gun aside and wrestling him to the ground.

The initial shock didn't last long. They were soon rolling across the floor fighting for control of a knife that Igor had pulled. On the last roll Igor had managed to pin him down and was steadily driving the knife closer to Frank's heart. The two men were silent except for the occasional grunts of effort. They had killed enough people to appreciate the unspoken language of a fight to the death. There was no need to say anything.

This man understood him better than people like Daredevil or Spiderman ever would. He felt himself smile slightly as the knife slowly entered the meat of his side just below his shoulder. He felt the blade scrape ribs before it slide between them. Igor, however, made the fatal mistake of thinking the fight was over. Once he relaxed Frank roughly turned them over, tearing a gun from his hip and pressing it directly over the other man's heart before firing in a spray of blood and tissue. After three shots he'd made a substantial hole in the meat of Igor's chest, but only he was left to appreciate it.

His smile faded somewhat when he heard something sizzling and smelt burning flesh. Looking down he noticed the blood bubbling around the knife protruding from him. He dimly registered that Igor must've been mixing the acid from his mutation on his knives. Pushing himself to his feet he slung his auto over his shoulder and forced himself back to the stairs trying to ignore the way his vision was suddenly fading in and out as the adrenaline started to wear off.

Pietro was lounging on one of the many couches scattered throughout Daimon's mansion. He'd dipped heavily into his supply today and was enjoying the warmth radiating from the center of his chest.

"Mr. Maximoff?" he felt someone shaking him. He wasn't sure what was so urgent. Where he was it was so clear. Everything really was okay. He opened his eyes and smiled at the silvery form of Loki. He tried to communicate that there was nothing to worry about, but all that came out was a small giggle. "I need your help. Mr. Maximoff?"

He could see Loki was talking to him, but the words were muffled in his chrysalis. When Loki pulled him off the couch he sat on the floor and leaned back against the sofa humming slightly. He watched in fascination as Loki disappeared in swirls of shimmering green. He began lifting his arm to reach for the fading magic, but he seemed to be moving much slower than usual through the thick cotton of the air.

Turning at another pulse of emerald he caught sight of Loki supporting the Punisher to lay on the couch he'd just been forced off of. "I'll be right back. Daimon will know what to do," he heard the slightly panicked words and watched Loki run out of the room. Rolling to his knees he looked over the broad man before him. He met Frank's eyes when they slowly opened and for a moment they silently assessed each other. The grey eyes were steady, but he could see the tension in his jaw and hear the rattle of air in the man's chest. Breaking eye contact, Pietro stared at the knife. The blood was already making a large stain on the cushions as it bubbled out on each beat of the heart. Reaching out in wonder he put his hand on the sizzling wound. He didn't feel the burn or notice the blade biting his skin.

When the smell of burning flesh reached him his eyes glazed over and he slipped far away to the memory of searing pain and the feeling of someone strong holding him down. Everything faded to the sound of distant screaming.

Daimon marched swiftly down the stairs listening to Loki's retelling of events. "Loki, I need you to find some heavy pain killers for him. Also bring Thompson back here. I'll need him to move Castle when I'm done. Can you do that?" The godling nodded eagerly and he gave the trickster a half smile before he teleported away. He knew Castle would never take them, but he needed to send Loki away for this. Walking into the room he froze before closing his eyes and reining himself in. The air was full of Castle's obvious physical pain and Pietro's who seemed to be unaware of the world around him. He forced out a heavy breath through his nose before approaching the crouching mutant.

"Pietro?" he circled the couch so he wasn't coming in from behind the statuesque figure. "Pietro, I need you to look at me." He knelt in front of him and gently touched his face forcing him to look up. Pietro's pupils were almost completely dilated as he looked unsteadily over Daimon's shoulder. His face was paler than he'd ever seen it and his hand was wrapped tightly around the blade where it disappeared into Castle's side. He noticed some of the blood was Pietro's and the acid had left a burn across most of his hand. "Hey," he said quietly while he wrapped his hand around Pietro's wrist and forced him to let go, "that's it." Pietro sagged weakly against the couch, cradling his hand, allowing Daimon the space to look at Frank's side.

"Castle?"

"Still here," came the raspy reply. Daimon nodded and began burning the fabric sides of the armor so he could pull the Kevlar off of him. Running his hands around the wound he closed his eyes and summoned up a power he liked to pretend he didn't have. Opening his eyes, which he knew were no longer red but a deep sapphire, he allowed the light to gather in his hands. When he was ready he pulled the knife without warning and let a small shard of the divine flow through him.

Half an hour later he still felt weak, but the golden glow had left his skin and the mark on his chest was once more becoming sharply defined against his paling flesh. Flash had returned at some point with Loki and was able to half carry a weakened Castle down into the basement. He wouldn't look him in the eye, but he could feel his curious look. No one was aware of Daimon's complete abilities and he preferred to keep it that way.

Glancing around he wondered were Pietro had gone. When the light had faded from the healing he'd been aware of Pietro leaving the room. Standing with a groan he walked to the door he'd left from and stood in the large foyer of the mansion. The front door was wide open. He crossed the room looking around curiously. Glancing out toward Fire Lake he noticed a man sitting on the end of the dock. Certain it was Pietro he slowly walked down the steps feeling a little light headed.

Once outside he watched his bare feet touch the grass. The dew felt cool between his toes and he could almost describe the feeling as pleasant. Looking out at the lake reflecting the moonlight in jagged ripples he noticed how Pietro's hair practically glowed in the darkness. The mutant made no move as he approached and didn't acknowledge him even when he sat down, stiffly, next to him at the end of the dock.

Daimon didn't need to look to know the mutant was completely high right now. What surprised him were the silent tears falling down the pale cheeks. Pietro didn't seem to be aware of the tears, but he looked at Daimon like he was seeing him for the first time. Sliding closer he tangled one of his hands into his hair pulling him into a kiss that was pure desperation. Daimon could feel the tears on the other man as he allowed himself to be pulled on top of him. "Please… Please…"

He had a feeling Pietro wasn't aware of what he was saying and that he didn't care who he was kissing. Daimon was more than half tempted to see how far this would go. When the mutant's hands came to his back to pull him closer Daimon let him but he couldn't block out the pronounced hipbones digging into him and the way his body was trembling. Placing a hand on his shoulder he regretfully pulled away and placed a kiss to the sweaty forehead. "Pietro, let's go back inside." He could feel the blood on his back from where he'd been touched and wondered if Pietro had even noticed the wound on his hand.

Pietro's eyes widened suddenly and he promptly emptied his stomach on Daimon's chest before rolling to his side and continuing to throw up until he was reduced to coughing weakly. Daimon looked into the dark water silently calming himself before sighing and scooping Pietro up in his arms and shakily forcing himself to his feet. The sore muscles of his body protested the weight, but he knew Pietro wasn't going far on his own at this point.

Walking to his room took an embarrassing amount of time, but he had to keep stopping to combat the dizzy spells. Pietro was crying harder now in his arms and kept slipping against the sick spread between them. Daimon felt a headache starting by the time he shut the door behind him. Bridal style he carried Pietro into the bathroom and dropped him onto the toilet lid, perhaps a bit harder than necessary.

He started the shower and turned back to the shaking man watching the room with wide panicked eyes. "Clothes off. You aren't getting into my bed smelling like an animal." The effect was immediate. Pietro's eyes grew impossibly wider and he fell off the toilet in his haste to find a corner to hide in.

"Please don't I swear I'll be good… just please… don't…" Daimon sighed as his speech broke into hyperventilation. Kneeling a good distance from him he held out his hand.

"I'm not going to fuck you. We're both covered in sick and I don't want it in the sheets." He said, gritting his teeth in an effort not to loose patience. Pietro forcibly eased his breathing out his nose, but refused to look at him. "Pietro, you know me. I'm not going to hurt you like that." He raised his hand once more and the mutant reflexively flinched.

When Pietro didn't move further he sighed and stood up. "We're both taking a shower now." Without bothering to tell him not to look he kicked off his boots and peeled off his leather pants. Naked, he looked down at the mutant who was crying steadily and staring wide eyed into the corner. Slowly kneeling in front of him he placed a hand on Pietro's ankle. "I'm just going to take your socks off. Promise not to kick me?" He waited until the other nodded before quickly removing the socks and throwing them to the offending corner. With a grunt he lifted the other man into his arms once again. Pietro tensed at first before resting his head on Daimon's shoulder and murmuring in his native tongue.

Climbing into the shower he maneuvered both of them under the water feeling Pietro get steadily heavier as his clothes became wet. When the sick was gone he lowered Pietro's legs so he could stand on his own. The moment he let him take some of his own weight a pair of dilated icy blue eyes met his red ones. They stared at each other for a moment before Pietro looked down slowly becoming aware of the fact he was fully clothed in a shower with Daimon. It was clear the drugs were wearing off, but when Pietro started tugging his shirt off it he seemed to struggle more than normal. Daimon let go of him completely and reached for a bar of soap. Pietro opened the door to wetly throw his shirt into the tub.

Turning the water up as high as possible he sighed and let his head hang under the spray while the soap slowly slipped down his body. The shower door shut distantly. His eyes stayed closed when he felt Pietro touch his shoulder before quickly yanking away with a hiss. "Turn down the water for Christ's sake, Daimon." His mouth cracked into a brief half smile before he turned the water to a more human temperature. Smoothly grabbing a bottle of shampoo he moved out of the way. Pietro ignored him as he stepped into the water, which allowed Daimon to look more closely at the other man.

Water rolled through the silver hair, flattening it to his skull, before moving down a porcelain set of shoulders. Tilting his head he followed the rippling muscle (the man clearly had no fat on his body) to the perfectly shaped ass and the long legs. He didn't mind the old lines from whips and brands. Pietro wouldn't believe him, but he thought they added to his beauty.

Nudging Pietro out of the way he moved back under the water washing out his hair. "Fuck," Pietro murmured under his breath behind him. Pietro was cradling his hand and hurriedly washing the soap out of the still bubbling wound. Without asking Daimon grabbed his wrist and turned over his hand.

"I'll heal this when we get out. Try not to hurt yourself anymore, dear?" He looked up at Pietro through his lashes with a teasing smile.

Pietro glared distantly at the wall before reaching for the soap again, this time with his left hand. Single-handed, he began awkwardly trying to scrub the sweat and sick from his body. Daimon snorted when he dropped the soap for the sixth time, but quickly grabbed the soap from Pietro's shaking fingers. "Still a little high are we?"

Grunting petulantly he tried to take the bar from Daimon, but he was having none of it. "If we wait for you to do it yourself we'll be here all night." He put a hand on the pale arm of the mutant and felt the renewed tension. "Pietro, look at me," blue eyes stared distantly in the vicinity of his birthmark. "No look," he said roughly grapping the back of his neck and forcing him to look down at his completely un-aroused body. "I'm not getting off on this. Just helping you shower faster, so I can get to bed sooner."

Rather than speak Pietro looked searchingly at Daimon before nodding and casting his eyes to the ground. Wasting no time he began lathering his hands and scrubbing at the arm closest to him. He could feel the tension in the flesh under his hands relax by slow fractions only to double when he ran his hands over a particular scar.

Catching his breath when Daimon started on his back he almost didn't catch it when Pietro spoke. "Why?" Looking up he caught lucid blue eyes looking curiously over a wet shoulder.

"Why what?" he asked distractedly running his hands down the other's sides and briefly resting on sharp hips. He was busy admiring the fact Pietro seemed to have hardly any hair on his body.

"You said you weren't getting off on this. It just doesn't seem like you."

Snickering he gestured for him to rinse off before saying, "it isn't like me, no. Demon blood runs hot in a lot of ways, but I'm tired tonight."

"What did you do? I've heard Strange say you have the strength of ten men." Daimon raised a questioning brow. "Shut up. I overheard it years ago and it's the type of information that can be useful later."

"Healing runs counterpoint to my Dark Soul. It pulls up more humanity and Angelic heritage, but as I've told you, those sides of me are too weak to survive on their own. Had I not been so selfless tonight I'd be very excited right now." He said the last part jokingly as Pietro turned off the water and they began tiredly toweling off. "Were you worried I wasn't attracted to you anymore?"

"You're flattering yourself, Hellstrom." He caught the towel that was thrown at his face with a snort and walked slowly back to the bedroom. Neither man spoke as they pulled on loose cotton pants and climbed into the bed. Daimon noticed the tired, thoughtful look on Pietro's face and waited for him to speak. In the mean time he laid back and took in the other's appearance.

Pietro didn't seem to have any intention of sleeping with a shirt tonight as he climbed into bed. That would be the second time. Daimon knew it meant he was getting more comfortable around him and given tonight's line of questioning he wondered if Pietro would ever be in a place to enjoy sex with him. Knowing it would be a long time coming he looked at the over pronounced bones and the dark bags under his eyes. His skin was still pale, but on closer inspection he noticed it was a slightly sickly shade.

"So, tonight you're tired, but all the other nights I come over and you're alone? What's going on there?" He noticed Pietro was trying to be nonchalant about this line of questioning and although he wasn't fooled he decided not to call him on it. Yet.

"I've been busy. It's been a month though and I really need to fuck someone soon. That or burn someone alive. I haven't decided which I'd prefer."

"Oh. Well I'm sure you won't have a problem finding someone on such short notice. All those Satan worshipers? I bet they line up." He noted the cold way Pietro said the words.

"Mmm those ones are usually good for an orgy, but Satanist are usually disgusting. I might settle for torturing one at the moment then finding someone more worthy of my interests." He sat up and gestured for Pietro to give him his hand.

"Someone? You go both ways then?" Daimon was now sure Pietro was interested even if he wouldn't acknowledge it. He was trying to hard to come off as uncaring, but Daimon's sire was the Prince of Lies. He wasn't easily fooled.

"Demons might encourage homophobia for the chaos such hatred can breed, but there's no animosity towards people who are gay. Personally we thrive on chasing physical pleasure in all its forms."

"Very romantic, Daimon," he laughed softly and watched Daimon assessing his hand. When the light began to radiate from between their hands his blue eyes grew round and he light out a sigh of bliss. The light faded and he was even more tired than before. Slumping back into the bed he closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

Pietro settled on his chest a moment later. "So am I going to walk in here one day to find you sleeping with someone else?"

"No. You might walk in on me fucking someone though. Would that bother you?"

He thought about it for a second before replying, somewhat firmly, "I'm not interested in doing that with you, so no."

"Fine."

"Good."

Daimon had no issue playing this game.


	12. Turning Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long awaited update! Thanks for all the patience and the continued reviews!

The first time Pietro sees Daimon with someone else he’s initially confused. The drugged haze slows things down so it takes a second before he remembers his earlier conversation with Daimon. Grateful that he hadn’t opened the door more than a crack he knows the couple hasn’t noticed him. When the sight before him sinks in he freezes in place.

He’s watching Daimon’s back as he leans against a dresser with his head thrown slightly back. There’s a skinny girl kneeling before him with big hazel eyes staring up the muscular stomach inches from her face. Pietro watches Daimon run one hand through her hair to hold the back of her head as he guides her into a faster pace. When he realizes he’s been standing in the doorway watching much longer than necessary he beats a hasty retreat to his own bed. Hours later he wakes up to Daimon climbing under the covers with him. He wants to say something, but he remembers he’d made it clear that he didn’t want to make Daimon’s sex life part of his business. Instead of speaking he sighs heavily and lets Daimon settle against his back. When his arm reaches around to pull Pietro closer to his chest he interlaces their fingers and goes to sleep.

Tonight he makes it a step into the room before he realized what he’s seeing. This time a boy is bent over the bed while Daimon roughly moves behind him. It takes them a moment to notice Pietro and when they do the boy blushes furiously. Pietro eyes, however, have locked with Daimon’s. He can see the muscles of his stomach contracting and hear the heavy breathing as the man reigns himself in. The boy suddenly interrupts their staring match when he starts telling Daimon he’s squeezing him too tight. Pietro is gone before Daimon can say anything.

He walks numbly down the stairs to the living room and sinks onto the couch. The sound of a headboard hitting a wall forces him to frown at the ceiling. “Hellstrom’s been bringing a lot of company around lately.” Pietro jumps only just noticing Frank Castle sitting at the other end of the couch with his head tilted back and his eyes closed.

“I hadn’t noticed.” He snaps back before turning the TV on and hitting the volume button angrily. Castle doesn’t say anything when he sits up a little straighter and opens his eyes to glance at him.

“He’s not subtle.”

“And?” Castle shrugs noncommittally.

“Just seems like he might want someone’s attention.”

“I highly doubt that.” Pietro says dismissively. 

“When’s the last time you tried?” Pietro glares over at him without having to ask what he means. He hasn’t tried to have sex in some time. Definitely hasn’t been curious about trying in a very long while.

“That’s really not your business, Castle.” Before Frank can do more than frown at him they’re interrupted by a typically ill-timed Loki entrance.

“Pietro! Are you joining us for movie night? Venom is bringing pizza,” Loki announced loudly entering the room with the largest bowl of popcorn he’d ever seen. Glancing at the small god he notes the hopeful look on his face. He internally sighs before nodding at the now beaming Loki. “Excellent! I’ve acquired the extended editions of The Lord of the Rings. Flash has assured me of the film’s quality, and pop culture significance.”

There was the sound of footsteps coming up from the basement before Flash could be heard yelling, “pizza’s here!” Pietro rolled his eyes and settled more comfortably into the couch. Flash enters the room and sets down a large stack of pizza. He glances around the group looking apologetic. “Sorry they’re smashed a bit, but the man hole cover was too small for the boxes. I had to bend them around a little.”

Castle says nothing as he grabs a slice and scrapes some of the extra toppings off the lid of the box to add to his piece. “Honestly it doesn’t look any less messy than a lot of pizzas I’ve had.”

“I still wish it was from New York, but how hard can it be to make a good pizza. Any way where’s Hellstrom?” It was at this moment the banging started with renewed force. Flash frowned at the ceiling before looking slightly confused to Pietro. “But aren’t you two…” he trails off awkwardly before meeting the angry stare of the Punisher. “Sorry, I just thought he was with-”

“Probably stop talking now, kid.”

“Right! Sorry,” he said coughing uncomfortably then proceeding to start shoveling food into his mouth. 

Pietro didn’t say anything as he sulked further into the couch. They weren’t together. Daimon deserved someone who wasn’t so completely damaged. Pietro wasn’t even sure he could have that kind of relationship anymore. “Just start the movie, Loki.”

The small god was watching the proceedings with wicked amusement in his emerald eyes. At the mention of the movie however he jumped eagerly to his feet and inserted the first of many Blu-rays.

They were only twenty minutes into the first movie when Daimon joined them. He said nothing as he settled comfortably on the couch next to Pietro with a greasy slice of pizza. Pietro deliberately adopted his best indifferent expression. 

*

Daimon sank into the couch next to a stony Pietro, smirking at Flash when he cast a disapproving eye on him. He could practically feel Pietro’s confused thoughts beside him. The first half of the film he simply basks in the afterglow while taking comfort in his proximity to the mutant that is steadily taking up more of his thoughts. He is so distracted with thoughts of sex with Pietro he doesn’t hear Castle calling his name. 

“What are you going on about now, Castle?”

“Kitchen. Now.” He raises an imperious brow at the simple sentences before pushing himself up with a sigh. Glancing at Pietro he notes the glazed look as he frowns at the screen. 

“What is this about now, Castle?” he drawls leaning against a counter watching Frank pulling a few beers and a soda from the fridge. 

“You know he’s going to kill himself if something doesn’t change right?” Hellstrom usually respects Frank for his habit of cutting straight to the matter at hand. Tonight it might annoy him. 

“I think you’re being a bit dramatic. Besides why is this my problem?”

“Do you care about him?” Daimon thinks on it for a moment before shrugging noncommittally. Castles nods slowly looking him directly in the eye before saying gruffly, “you’re going to come back to him dead one night. Can you live with that?”

Daimon stared hard back into Castle’s sharp eyes before looking away with a huff. “What do you expect from me, Castle?”

“Talk to him. Give him a reason to fight this. This game you’re playing? It’s not going to help him.” Daimon scowled for a moment. He was enjoying the game he was playing, but Castle might have a point. 

“Fine,” he growled through gritted teeth. “I’ll think about it, but this is going to blow up in someone’s face and it won’t be mine.” Frank gave him a knowing smirk before shoving two beers into his hands and waving him back to the living room. 

Hours later Daimon lay silently on his back gazing at the moonlit ceiling lost in thought. The body next to him gave a small tremor before stilling once more. His demon had soaked in the pain radiating off the mutant during what he knew was an onslaught of nightmares. The human part of him was less satisfied. If he was honest he knew he didn’t feel comfortable imaging a world without Pietro in it. He just wasn’t sure what he was willing to do to help. He wasn’t sure he was capable of helping. He’d tried to help Patsy when she’d gone mad at a small glimpse of his Dark Soul. The only person he’d ever loved had opened that soft flesh on her wrists rather than share a world with him. Was Daimon really what someone as vulnerable as Pietro needed?

In the midnight gloom, Daimon fought with himself. Rolling to his side he watched Pietro’s sleeping face. He let himself see the signs. Pietro’s pale skin had become waxy and stretched too thin. He had angry track marks running up his arms and between his delicate toes. Daimon spent more time with him high than not lately. More than once he’d woken to him barely breathing. He’d been fooling himself into not seeing it was getting worse. Reaching out he gently traced the largest scab on the inside of Pietro’s thin elbow. Seeing his hand next to Pietro’s tender arm he noticed how thin he’d become. He could easily wrap a hand around one of his forearms. Seeing the destruction he was opening up on himself Daimon felt a bitter wave of sadness come over him. All he wanted was to protect this fragile person from any more pain. It was clear the heroin had to stop soon if Pietro was going to live. Daimon knew what he had to do. 

*

Pietro didn’t understand what had happened. As quickly as it had started it had stopped. Daimon went from entertaining a different guest each night to a life of apparent abstinence. When he asked him about it he’d shrugged and said casual sex gets old after a while. Pietro was having a hard time buying it, but what had really surprised him was the wave of relief he’d had at the news. It’d felt like he was sharing Daimon with these strangers.

He was relieved how easily they slipped back into their old habits. Sleeping beside Daimon had become something he caught himself looking forward to each night. However, that didn’t stop the growing sense of shame every time he leapt from bed to be violently sick. Daimon never said anything, but Pietro could feel his concern. He was grateful it never felt like pity. He just didn’t like feeling like he’d done something to hurt Daimon. Whenever he thought of quitting he’d inevitably come up with a dozen reasons he needed to use. He needed it. 

That’s how he found himself at 7 o’clock at night shaking on the bathroom floor as he fumbled with a lighter and a piece of tinfoil. He’s so sick he doesn’t notice Daimon come in behind him. Doesn’t notice until he feels a warm hand on the back of his neck. He almost sobs in relief at the feel of Daimon slowly crouching beside him. He doesn’t understand at first when Daimon’s hand carefully grasps his hand currently holding the lighter. When Daimon gently pushes his hand away from the foil he whines low in his throat. “Daimon, please.”

“Pietro, I know this is shit timing, but we need to talk about this.” He barely registers Daimon’s carefully placed words before he starts shaking his head. 

“Daimon, I need a fix then we can talk okay? Just let me have this one, please? Nothing is going to happen.” He hates the way he can feel his voice trembling, but he can’t help it. He shakes his hand free and holds the lighter beneath the foil slowly cooking. He doesn’t notice Daimon frowning as he carefully fills a syringe before finding a vein. He sighs as the needle finally pierces his skin of his calf.

When the shaking eases he smiles lazily up a Daimon, but frowns when he notices his angry glare. “You’re going to get yourself killed. I don’t want to see that, Pietro.” Pietro tries to decipher these words, but he’s too far gone. 

“What are you saying?”

“I don’t want to see you throw your life away on this poison.” 

“What you’re going to judge me? I thought demons loved all kinds of sin. Well you know what, fuck you, Daimon. I don’t need this.” He pulls himself to his feet and pushes past Daimon and he runs. Forcing himself not to look back, he runs. Rather than go to his room he returns to his apartment in New York for the night knowing he’ll have to face his sister when he gets there.

Wanda had taken to staying in his apartment in the last few months and while this usually wouldn’t bother him tonight he wants to be alone. When he’d seen Daimon standing there trying to control him like everyone else he’d suddenly become angry in a way that he knew he shouldn’t. 

“Brother,” she smiles brilliantly when she opens the door. “Come on I was just about to order some take-out.” He doesn’t speak when he enters, just marches to the couch where he collapses. Wanda takes the hint and leaves him alone while she calls the Thai place they both used to share at least once a week when they’d first come to New York. 

Turning on the TV for something to do he somehow lands on the Omen. Staring at the screen for a moment he starts laughing before breaking down into angry tears while he cursed in a dozen languages. He calms down enough to notice Wanda watching him with a confused expression. They stared at each other for a moment before Pietro breaks and murmurs something about taking a shower. 

Once he securely locks the bathroom door he lets himself rest against the bathroom door. It takes a minute for his breathing to once again even out, but once it does he moves forward to the sink. Splashing some water on his face he quickly sheds his clothes before he finds himself staring into his face in the mirror. He barely recognizes himself these days. He can see his collarbone protruding painfully along with each bone in his sternum. There’s heavy shadows ringing his eyes that stand out even sharper against the pale color of his skin. He looks like a corpse for lack of a better word. He keeps his mind carefully blank as he takes in the damage. He feels nothing as he counts the track marks. Daimon might have a reason to be worried, but he can’t stop yet. Can he? With a sigh he turns away from his reflection and steps into the comforting heat of the shower scrubbing at his body until a few of the scabs peel off. 

After a swift reentry he silently moves back to the couch. Wanda slides a bit closer so she’s leaning into his side. Glancing down Wanda points at his elbow, “you’re bleeding.” Pietro grunts and neither Maximoff speaks after that as they half watch television both too lost in their own thoughts to take much notice of what they’re actually seeing. At the sound of the doorbell Pietro rises to pay while Wanda goes to gather plates. 

They eat in tense silence. Pietro knows his sister is itching to say something, but is worried how he’ll react. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what she wants to say. After Daimon earlier he’d not sure he can do this again in the same night. “Brother,” she begins hesitantly after she’s made them both teas. “You know how I worry for you. You know I love you right? I only want what’s best for you. This drug,” here she pauses heavily. “Well it’s killing you. I’m sure you can see that and maybe you don’t care, but goddamnit I care about you!” He isn’t prepared for her rising volume or her slapping her palm on the table. 

“Wanda, you’re getting hysterical.”

“Don’t make this out like I’m being crazy, Pietro. You’re hurting yourself, so I have every reason to be upset. I have every right to be mad at you for giving up like this.”

“I didn’t give up. I’m just-”

“Of course you have! You can’t deal with things as they are so you’re checking out of reality. It’s not right Pietro and it’s going to kill you. You are so strong, brother, and I know you can get through this if you’d stop running and just face it.”

“I’m not running from anything, Wanda.”

“Of course you are. You’ve been running since we were kids and you have been trying to out run all this unfair shit that’s happened to you, but it doesn’t work like that Pietro. This is going to follow you. The only cure is to face it. I’m sure you don’t want to die, brother. The only real alternative is to live.” She’s calmed herself down by the time she finishes talking, but he can tell how relieved she is to be talking like this. 

“You’ve been wanting to say this for a while haven’t you?” She smiles at him sadly. 

“You don’t always make it easy to talk, Pietro. You don’t see it, but this path you’re on hurts other people. I came into this world with you, but you seem determined to leave without me.” Her eyes look wet, but her voice remains steady as she stares Pietro down. 

“I’m not determined to die. Don’t be melodramatic.”

“Then what are you doing?” She asks with an exasperated sigh. 

“I’m just… I don’t know. I’m just tired of running I think. This is easier.”

“I’ve never known you to take the easy path.”

“I don’t know if I can quit anymore, Wanda. I don’t think I want to.” He knows how tired he sounds even as he says it. 

“I would be surprised if you wanted to. Are you happy though? Can you honestly tell me you’re happy?”

“Wanda, I don’t like feeling this way. I don’t like feeling out of control. It’s not a happy feeling. I just don’t know what else to do.” 

“Then quit. You can. I know you can. You did it once and this time you’ll have me with you the whole time.” 

“Wanda, I don’t know,” he can’t look at her as he saying this. He can feel his resolve falling apart. 

“Think about it. Seriously think about it Pietro. You’re life can be so much more than this. I’ll always love you, but I don’t know if I’d be able to manage if you died like this.” Pietro didn’t say anything. He just nodded his head and stares at his mug of tea. The tea is a deep red which reminds him of Daimon and his demonic iris. He imagines being clean. Not spending every night beside Daimon shaking or throwing up. He imagines feeling healthy again. He allows himself to imagine other activities he might want to try once he’s healed. Without saying anything he meets his sister’s eyes and nods.


	13. Coming Down

Daimon angrily knocks at the address Flash found for him in the Avenger’s database. He hasn’t seen Pietro since he’d foolishly tried to intervene. He tells himself he’s only checking to see if Pietro’s alive, but he knows it’s a lie. He misses the mutant. When the door opens he takes a deep breath in preparation for what he’s planning as an angry yelling match. However, when the door opens it’s Wanda he finds himself staring at. “Hellstrom? What are you doing here?”

“Have you seen him?” He ignores her question and shoulders his way into the apartment looking for a flash of silver hair.

“Hey, you can’t just barge in like this!” He glances at the witch noticing the red glow around her hands. Before he can do more than bare his fangs at her he hears a faint voice. Turning around he opens the bedroom door ignoring Wanda’s angry cry behind him.

“Hey,” comes the dried whisper from the bed. Pietro looks like a corpse against the white sheets that are clearly soaked with his sweat. When he raises a trembling hand Daimon instantly comes to sit on the edge of the bed taking the pale hand in his. With his other hand he gently brushes the silver hair off his damp forehead. “I guess I took your advice.”

“You quit?”

“Don’t make a big deal out of it. The whole thing was getting stale anyway. Time to move on to other things.” His voice was weak, but he managed to sound dismissive anyway.

“Good. When did you start?”

“Two days ago. The peak shouldn’t be much longer. Then maybe a week.”

“You’ll tell me where all your stashes are and I’ll destroy them. There won’t be anything left at the house.” Pietro nods weakly before curling up slightly around his stomach. “Aches?”

“It comes and goes. I haven’t slept since this started either,” he sighed closing his eyes tightly.

“I can have Loki bring some movies and we’ll stay up.” He was only slightly surprised by how easily he’d adopted a soothing tone. He distracted himself rubbing small circles into Pietro’s sweaty palm.

“Okay.” He opened his eyes and gave Daimon a thoughtful look.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I’d have come sooner.” He didn’t mean to sound annoyed, but it had felt like over a week since their fight.

“I wanted to surprise you,” Pietro said haughtily.

“Really?” Daimon was trying to repress a smile now, but he could feel it bleeding into his eyes.

“No I was mostly mad at you for trying to intervene.” Pietro smiles slightly when he says it. Daimon feels somewhat lighter at that small smile and he knows he’s falling hard for this man.

Before he can think of a reply there’s a cough at the door. He glances over his shoulder and raises an eyebrow at Wanda. She’s standing awkwardly in the doorway with her arms folded defensively. Hesitantly she addresses Pietro in their native language. Daimon frowns between them, hating the language barrier. He avoids looking at Pietro when he glances at him and nods. Wanda clears her throat before speaking to him directly. “Can you help him shower? I’ll order some food. You’ll stay for dinner?”

“I’ll stay tonight.” He said firmly. He softened slightly when he saw Pietro was smiling.

*

It's a few nights later that Pietro begins to feel like a human being again. He's lying with his head on Daimon's lap while the demon's deft fingers comb through his hair when it hits him how domestic this feels. He's never been this comfortable with someone before.

When his cell phone goes off he groans. Daimon snorts softly and smoothly extracts himself from Pietro to retrieve the phone. He smiles slightly at his retreating back. He sits up when Daimon hands him the phone flashing the unknown number. "Yes?"

"Hey, honey! How's it going?" He knows the feminine voice instantly.

"Nomad?" Daimon looks at him sharply when he says her name.

"Put her on speaker." Pietro rolls his eyes at the command, but he complies.

"What do you want?" Daimon snaps the second she can hear him.

"No pleasantries for me, Daimon?" The amusement in her voice is clear, but something feels grim about this call.

"What. Do. You. Want." He says it so lowly Pietro wonders if she's able to hear him until she replies.

"I've found him. Erebus. He's holed up in Boston." He's never heard her sound so serious. He can feel Daimon watching him. Waiting.

"Send me the address," he says rising to his feet. She says something else but he's not listening. He hangs up and walks calmly to his room to get dressed.

"How do you want to handle this?" He looks up to see Daimon standing in the doorway.

"I'm going alone." He says firmly.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'm coming. We should call the others too." Daimon snorts waving a dismissive hand.

"I don't need you to protect me, Daimon." He replies angrily.

"You're too proud to admit it, but you're still weak from the detox. You need my help. What are you going to do when you find him? Turn him over to your friends? Kill him?" Daimon was frowning at him now and talking slowly, as though Pietro was being unreasonable.

"I'm fine, Daimon," he growled through gritted teeth. "You don't think I'll kill him do you?"

"I think you want to, but you’re a slightly better person than you seem to think.” Daimon tilts his head considering Pietro.

“Fuck you, Daimon.” He pulls the rest of his suit on a super speed, ignoring the slight head rush. “Don’t even think of following me.”

With that he speeds from the apartment, checking his phone as he goes. Nomad has sent an address for a warehouse in Boston that he easily finds. He stands on the roof across the way and he watches. He’s trembling slightly from the short run, but he ignores it. He’s plenty fast enough even at low power. Daimon doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Taking one last deep breath he charges in. He knocks out the first layer of guards easily, but by the second he’s feeling slightly winded. Once he reaches the center room he has to stop to catch his breath. That’s when the gunfire really starts. He dodges well enough at first, but then a bullet goes through his calf. When he drops to a knee he hears a familiar voice shouting for a cease-fire.

“Pietro, how wonderful of you to join us!” the voice exclaims. Guards are suddenly surrounding him, grabbing him and pulling him into restraints.

*

Flash was just getting comfortable when Daimon burst into the room from a fiery portal. Before he could do more than choke on the third milkshake of the day (courtesy of Loki) Daimon yelled at him to get geared up. Jumping to his feet he followed the smoking demon to the stairs leading to the basement. “Gonna tell me what’s going on?”

“Pietro has gone after Erebus. We’re going to find him and back him up before he gets himself killed.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll arm up from Frank’s stash and we can go.” They entered the basement only to startle a guilty looking Loki.

“I wasn’t doing anything!” he said quickly.

“Where’s Castle? You know what it doesn’t matter. Loki, I need you to do a location spell on Pietro with me.”

“Spying isn’t healthy for any relationship, Daimon. You need to have a little trust you know.”

“Find Pietro now, Loki. I won’t ask again.”

“Touchy, touchy. Okay, but I can tell you he’s not going to be happy about this.” Loki was shaking his head sagely as he dropped down to the floor.

“Get whatever weapons you need, Thompson. We’re leaving as soon as he has the location.” Daimon began pacing hotly.

“You got it,” he turned to a crate and grabbed an M4. “I’m sure he’s fine.” Daimon snorted dismissively and continued his pacing. Flash didn’t bother saying anything else as he quickly gathered enough guns and ammunition for a small army. He wasn’t sure what they were getting themselves into so he simply tried to prepare himself for the worst. Mostly he hoped Frank wouldn’t mind him borrowing a few guns.

“I’ve got him! He’s in Boston. Here’s the address.” Loki handed Daimon a paper with a sharp grin. “Let’s go then.”

“If anything happens to him I can guarantee you both an eternity suffering in Hell.” Daimon murmured lowly making his eyes glow a little brighter.

“Come on, Daimon. We all care about him. There’s no need to be nasty.” Flash said in a wounded voice.

“He’s our friend too.” Loki said cheerily. Flash wasn’t sure Daimon was even listening at this point. He was busy creating a portal big enough for the three of them. Taking a deep breath he lifted a handgun in each fist and stepped through.

Immediately jumping into the rafters he began shooting out the knees caps of the dozen foot soldiers on the ground floor. The warehouse was full of crates stacked up to a second floor loft that overlooked everything. They’d managed to catch the first few by surprise, but the henchman were quickly rallying. Daimon was single-mindedly burning a path through the men. Flash thought he saw him shout at Loki before the demi-god disappeared in a hazy swirl of green. Turning his attention back to the loft he caught sight of a grenade launcher being leveled at Daimon.

“Shit,” he murmured before jumping down and wrapping the symbiote around Daimon and him. The grenade hit hard, but the alien absorbed the blast easily. However, it was screaming angrily in his head at the flames still coming off of Daimon. He hastily released the half demon.

“Come on. We need to kill these fools while Loki looks for him.” Flash just nods and shoots an oncoming goon. He never knew what to say in a fight. He just picks his target and fights his way through it.

He feels small jabs in his back and turns to see a man with an AK shooting at him. With a small grin he shoots the man in the shoulder, a few inches off, but he’s no Frank Castle when it comes to marksmanship. He webs another man on the walkway above them and pulls him down.

“I’ve located him! He’s in the office upstairs. You need to hurry, Daimon.” Loki shouted as he jumped out of a portal on top of a thug’s shoulders causing them both to crash to the ground. Daimon didn’t say anything, but the flames coming out of his trident suddenly tripled. Flash barely looked away for a moment to deal with another two and when he looked back Daimon was already charging up the stairs.

“This isn’t going to end well for Erebus.” Flash sighed as he shot another before running after the others. Taking the steps two at a time he ignored the bullets bouncing off his back. He noticed a wound in Daimon’s thigh slowly oozing blood, but Daimon didn’t seem to have noticed. He froze on his next step as a grenade bounced on the step in front of him. Without pausing to think he sent out a tendril of the suit, which squeezed the handle and filled where the missing pin should be. He then absorbed the grenade into the suit, right where his calf should be. Grinning within the suit he sent a few bullets over his shoulder. Turning around again he leapt up the stairs just as Daimon was banging open the door.

He got there in time to take in the room over Daimon’s shoulder. There were only three men with Erebus. Pietro was bound and gagged and he looked a little worse for the wear. His uniform was slightly torn and his cheek was swollen and bleeding. Flash could actually feel Daimon getting hotter as he took in the scene. Loki and him took a small step back as Daimon deliberately entered the room. “That’s far enough.” Erebus said and two of his men raised guns to the side of Pietro’s head.

“You think I’m here to negotiate?” Daimon said icily from where he’d frozen.

“I think you want this meat sack alive. If not I can just do the world a favor and shoot him now.” Erebus indicated to one of his men who took another step closer to the glaring mutant. Flash could see Daimon’s fists clench around his trident until the knuckles turned white.

“What do you want?” Daimon said through clenched teeth.

“Safe passage of course. Nothing too sinister.” Erebus said with a shrug and a smile.

“Deal. Now let him go.”

“I’m afraid you’re not very good at negotiating. No, he will be coming with us as a little insurance. We won’t use him too roughly, but when we’re done we’ll release him. Everyone wins.” Erebus said cheerfully.

“He’s not going anywhere with you.”

“Unfortunately you aren’t in the position to negotiate, so I suggest you-”

“No.” Daimon was smoking slightly now as he took a deliberate step closer. “You are going to let him go and you are going to be grateful I allow it. If you take him I will make you a promise. On the day you die I will personally take up the contract on your soul. I will take you to my kingdom in Hell and I will spend the next eternity with you as my pet project. I will give you so much pain you will forget who you are. You will beg me for mercy and I will not give it. You do not want me as an enemy, mortal.” While Daimon was making his speak Flash took the opportunity to step into the room. He slowly moved so he had a clear shot on the gunman and he waited for Daimon.

“Look I want to just let him go, but how will I know you’ll let me go after. I need reassurances.” Erebus seemed slightly nervous now, but he was hiding it well.

“We’re the good guys,” Loki said suddenly. “You can trust us.”

Erebus stood considering for a moment while everyone shifted nervously, everyone except Daimon and Pietro. The mutant was looking intensely at Daimon while the demon stared coldly at Erebus. The room held its breath as Erebus slowly shook his head. “A god of lies, a demon, and a newly reformed super villain? No, I don’t think I will take your word.” He raised his hand and the room was thrown into chaos. Flash immediately raised his 1911 .45s and he fired at the two men aiming at Pietro. He didn’t bother trying to be non-lethal, so he managed to hit the first one directly above the heart. The second he wasn’t so lucky.

He was a second too late as the man fired into Pietro’s back, hitting him twice below his left shoulder blade. Flash’s bullet hit the gunman a second later right in the throat. He caught a flash of green as Loki took out the third man with a wave of magic. Daimon advanced blackly toward Erebus. When he reached him he grabbed him by the suit jacket and snarled one word. “Burn.” The man went up in the torrent of flame and screams.

Flash knelt beside Pietro and hastily picked through the lock on the heavy chains. Turning him over he removed the gag last. He’d seen a lot of men shot in his service. This didn’t end happy. He let his mask melt away and put on his best smile. “Hey, buddy. We’re gonna get you out of here okay. Just hang in there.” Pietro was clearly just trying to breath, so he didn’t do more than furrow his brow at the ceiling. He was just trying to figure out what to do when Daimon dropped to the other side of Pietro. “He doesn’t have long.” He said as gently as he could.

“Maybe if it were up to you. Loki, I’m going to need you to portal us home.” Daimon dissolved his trident in a swirl of flames them placed his hands on Pietro’s oozing chest. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the mutant’s pale cheek. “You aren’t leaving me today, Pietro.” He said it softly, but Flash still heard him. Flash watched him take a deep breath and close his eyes, his hands already starting to glow. He couldn’t look away as the light slowly spread until it had reached Daimon’s elbows, then pulsed into Pietro’s chest. He saw Daimon’s hair turn gold and his birthmark fade to nothing. The light grew so intense he finally had to look away. When it faded he looked back. Daimon was glowing with a golden light, but it was quickly fading. He was holding onto Pietro tightly when the mutant took a huge gasping breath and sat up, breathing heavily. He laughed and slapped a hand on Pietro’s back.

“Shit, Daimon,” he gasped. Just as quickly as Pietro had sat up, Daimon collapsed heavily. “Loki, that portal would be great right about now.”

“You’ve got it boss-man.” Loki quickly jumped to attention and began waving his hands about. A green haze began to surround their little group.

“Daimon?” Pietro looked to his side at the man passed out in his blood and with a burst of speed grabbed him by the shoulders. “He healed me?” He asked over his shoulder as he gently rolled Daimon only his back so he could half rest in Pietro’s lap. Flash could hear the slight surprise in the question.

“Well yeah. He’s not about to lose you.” Flash watches satisfied as Pietro holds onto Daimon tightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only two chapters left and they're going to be coming out soon. Comments and reviews are worth gold to me!


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